


Hunger

by sunalso



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Seattle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 148,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: AU. Spike killed his third Slayer, but Dru was already dust. He's been lost, but when his supper turns out to be more than he bargained for, it leaves him hungry for something else instead. And Buffy? She's just hungry.Takes place in an alternate universe in which Buffy isn't the Slayer (yet), just a girl with rotten luck. Spike is still an evil vampire with a big black car, leather jacket, and the capacity to be much more than just a demon.   Based on a challenge at EF by Mia Vaan. Beta'd by Gort.Archived on AO3 and EF ONLY.





	1. Hungry

See my heart I decorate it like a grave

                -Alice In Chains, “Down in a Hole”

****

It was late. Too late for her to be out alone, walking back to her tiny apartment from the diner where she worked. Except Buffy’s car had broken down weeks ago and she didn’t have any money to even see what was wrong with it, let alone get it fixed. The tips she made at the diner barely kept her bills paid, clothes on her back, and food on the table.  Payday was still three days away and there wasn’t much to eat at home, but Buffy’s stomach was still growling at the thought of the can of chicken and stars soup that was waiting for her.

It'd be warm and no one would care if she ate the whole thing. There was even a couple of packs of crackers she’d “forgotten” to take out of her apron pocket to go with the soup.

She hunched into her coat. Fall was starting to turn into winter and she was going to have to buy a heavier jacket soon if she was going to keep walking to work. A bigger one too, since her belly seemed to be expanding at an alarming rate. The first three months of her pregnancy had been a blur of nausea and heartache. The father of her baby ditched her as soon as he knew she was pregnant. She didn’t even know where Riley was. He’d signed up for some super-secret special ops mission and disappeared out of her life. All she had left of him was the kiddo. At the end he’d said so many harsh things about how deviant she was, what a terrible lay she’d been, and how no man would ever be able to love her.

The worst part was that it was all true. At least she had the baby. She didn’t know how yet, but they’d make it. Her son or daughter might never have fancy clothes or the latest toys, but they’d have a loving mother.

Tears blurred her vision. She never saw the man that grabbed her and pulled her into one of the many dirty alleys that downtown Seattle was full of. She struggled against his grip, but he was too strong. He pushed her up against the wall behind a reeking dumpster. Her hand scrabbled over the leather of his coat, unable to find purchase.

“I don’t have any money,” she whimpered.

The man laughed. “Not what I’m looking for, pet.”

Oh god, he was going to rape her. “No, please. Don’t.” She tried desperately to get away. The man simply used his body to pin her tighter against the wall. A car drove by and in the glare from the headlights she could see that his face wasn’t right, he looked like an animal. Fangs gleamed in between his snarling lips.

Buffy knew she was going to die.

The creature brought its face to her neck.

“Please, no, please. I’m…”

“Shut your gob,” the creature hissed. Tears were cascading down her cheeks. Her own life was garbage, it didn’t matter if she ended up dead in a ditch, but her baby not getting a chance at life was driving a stake through her heart.

The creature’s breath tickled her exposed throat. Her own lungs ceased to function.

It paused, holding preternaturally still. Its hair looked white against the darkness.

“What’s this?” The creature went to its knees in front of her. It kept her pinned with strong hands, but gently laid an ear on her belly.

“I’m about four and a half months along,” she whispered.

‘”I can hear them, their little heartbeats.”

“Them?”  Her mouth went dry. She was having twins. She was eighteen with no degree, no talents, barely a job, and was having twins.

“Doctors should have told you that.” He sounded reproachful.

“I…my job doesn’t offer health insurance.”

The creature leapt back to its feet and starting pacing in front of her. “Woman!”  It shook a finger at her. “What is wrong with you? You can’t be walking the streets at night like some common…street walker, not when you have such important cargo on board! You could have died! I’m not the only thing that goes bump in the night!”

“Are you scolding me?” Buffy crossed her arms, anger bubbling up inside her.

“I haven’t even begun, you bloody bint! You have to take care of yourself, why are you out so late? There’s clinics you could go to for less than nothing. Do you care so little about your children that you’d risk their lives like this? You’re not even dressed properly, your tits are halfway hanging out of your blouse. Does your…whatever know you’re out here?”

“Stop, just stop.” The tears were coming thick and fast from her eyes. “How dare you!” she bit out. This guy didn’t know her. No one did. He didn’t get to judge. He murdered random people in alleys! “I was disowned by my mother when I accidently burnt down the school gym, not to mention expelled. I’ve been working for crap tips at the one place I’ve found that’ll pay me under the table. I have to work a lot to pay rent; those clinics are all during the times I’m at work or they’re too far away. My car is trashed, I can’t afford another work blouse so I’m having to make this one do for as long as possible, and I’m walking home at night because I was working late. I have forty-two cents in my bank account, I don’t get paid for another three days, I only have a single can of soup to eat at home. I’m exhausted, my feet hurt, I really need to pee, and I’m stuck in an alley with some monster that either wants to eat me or shame me to death.” Buffy was panting. The monster in question had stopped its pacing and was just standing there, head cocked to the side.

“When’s the last time you had something proper to eat, luv?”

“A while.” It’d been more than twenty-four hours since she scarfed down her last can of beans and ate the last two pieces of stale bread. She stepped away from the wall, intending to try and brush by the man…creature. Only her legs felt like jell-o and her head was spinning.

****

Spike felt gobsmacked. His dinner had turned out to be a firecracker. He’d been meaning to grab some junkie for a quick bite before heading out of Seattle, but when he’d caught the girl’s scent he’d been unable to resist.  She was delectable.

The pregnancy had been a surprise. It’d stopped him. Such tiny lives, so dependent on the care of someone else.

Christ, he missed Drusilla, missed caring for her. She’d been as helpless as a child at the end, after Prague. He might have reaffirmed his title of Slayer of Slayers in Sunnydale, but it’d been a hollow victory. The Slayer had dusted Drusilla the first time his princess had wandered outside of the factory.

The Slayer. What a joke that’d turned out to be.  The tall, thin girl with short brown hair had hardly been worth the fight. Missy had been no Nikki Woods.  He’d killed her with her own stake for pete’s sake. Then he’d driven north, drinking like a fish along the way. Until tonight. Until this girl.

He’d thought her stupid, cavalier with the lives dependent on her, unappreciative of the gift she’d been given.

Then she’d let him, after he’d had her on the point of his fangs, have it with both barrels. She was going to be a formidable mama bear one day.

The blonde stepped away from the wall. He’d let her go, she and her passengers had earned a pass.

He stood his ground. No reason not to make her squirm one last time. She hesitated, blinked, and then her eyes were rolling up and her legs gave out. Before he could process what he was doing, he caught her slight form. Under her threadbare coat she was thin everywhere except for the gentle swell of her belly.

Well, and her tits. Those were nice.

Spike sighed and forced his demon back. He knelt and balanced her on his knee with one arm while he searched through the girl’s pockets. He found a key and a crumpled gas bill marked past due. It had an address less than three blocks away. In for a penny, in for a pound.

The name on the envelope was Buffy Summers.

“Buffy,” he said, trying it out. 

It fit her.

The blonde weighed less than nothing and it was no work to carry her to her apartment building. The inside of the decrepit brick edifice was dank and poorly lit with an elevator that wasn’t working. His nose twitched. Demon owned building, the scent was cloying. He'd bet there wasn't lease with anyone's name on it for her flat or any of the others. Convenient, that.

Spike climbed the three flights of stairs and found flat 322. It was a miniscule one bedroom with something that passed for a kitchen, a bathroom that hadn’t been updated in 40 years, and not enough living space for a flea. But it was clean and uncluttered. The furniture consisted of one sagging futon, an uneven table with mismatched chairs, and a TV sitting on the floor. 

Spike set the girl gently down on the futon. He poked around the kitchen, finding a few spices, prenatal vitamins, and a single can of soup. It was sad. She’d said three more days till she got paid. What the hell was the chit planning on eating until then?

In the bathroom there was a threadbare towel, a worn out toothbrush, a hairbrush, and a single bar of soap. None of the little frou-frou smell-good things that women seemed to collect like bottle caps. That was even more depressing than the kitchen.

Back in the main room, Spike took several deep breaths through his nose. The girl’s scent was the only one in the bloody place. No one else, and especially no one male, had been there in months. The firecracker was on her own. Spike growled deep in his throat. Whatever wanker had impregnated her had left her high and dry. A slow, painful death was in order if he ever caught up with the git. The lessons Spike had learned at Angelus’ knee floated through his mind.

On the futon Buffy sighed and stirred, but didn’t wake. Carefully, Spike pulled a hand-knitted blanket over her.

The girl needed help.

_You could help her._

She won’t want me to. 

_Feed her, she will._

Gold flashed in his eyes and a feral grin spread across his face. The girl would be his.

****

He took her keys and left her sleeping. Before retrieving his car, he emptied a drifter whose path he crossed, leaving the body in a dumpster.

At a big box store that was open all night, Spike loaded up a cart with enough food to fill up the fridge and every cabinet in the tiny apartment. He tossed in toiletries, spending a rather long time popping open the tops of shampoo bottles till he found one that he thought would complement her natural scent. He grabbed some maternity clothes that would be roughly her size, along with undergarments. There’d be time later to get things for the lil’ bits.  He even threw in a radio and a new TV. It’s not like the dead owner of the stolen credit card was going to care.

A couple bottles of Jack and a carton of cigarettes for himself and he was set. The DeSoto was packed to the gills and it took him three trips to get it all upstairs to her flat. The girl must have been exhausted, she never even moved as he unpacked the groceries and put up everything else he’d bought her.

As the sun threatened to crest the horizon, Spike stood at the one window of the flat. Past the fire escape and between two more buildings he could just make out a black and white ferry churning the waters of Puget Sound. He fingered the ring in his pocket for long moments before pulling it out and holding it in his palm.

It was a risk, but the girl didn’t have curtains and he didn’t fancy hiding until sundown. It was unlikely any other demons would see him in here anyway. Keeping the damn thing a secret was a great deal of trouble, but necessary if he didn’t want every righteous do-gooder and would-be-king vamp tracking him down to take it. With a shrug, he slipped the Gem of Amara on and pulled out a skillet. He was betting the chit wouldn’t sleep through bacon and eggs.


	2. Eggs and Bacon

I sure don't mind a change

                -Soundgarden, “Fell on Black Days”

****

Buffy blinked her eyes open to the most delicious aroma. Her stomach gave a loud rumble. One of her neighbors must be cooking again. She was lying on her futon. How had she gotten home last night? She’d been in an alley with that man…thing…monster, but now she was at home. She shifted slightly and her full bladder suddenly became an emergency. She zipped upright and into the bathroom. It wasn’t until she was buttoning up her too-tight pants that she noticed that the shower curtain around the old clawfoot tub was new. It was clear plastic, bright and shiny with no mold spots. She pulled it back and there was shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash in a holder hanging from the faucet.

What the hell?

A new toothbrush, still in its wrapper, sat by the sink along with toothpaste, deodorant, perfume, several new hairbrushes and…hair gel? Where’d all this stuff come from? She was certain she was in her apartment; the cracks in the tile and missing chunk of counter were all very familiar.

Cautiously, she opened the door.

“Good morning, luv, hungry?”

Buffy blinked. A man was standing in her kitchen at the stove with a frying pan full of eggs.  The table was set, with a plate of toast and glasses of orange juice and milk already on it.

Her stomach rumbled again. She wondered if she was dreaming. Handsome British guys didn’t just magically appear in your kitchen to cook you breakfast. Well, if it was a dream she was going to take advantage of it. “God, yes!” she whispered. She sat down at the table and shoveled a piece of butter- soaked toast in her mouth while the stranger piled her plate high with scrambled eggs and crisp bacon.

She couldn’t get the food in fast enough. After a few minutes she realized she was eating like a pig and probably sounded like one too.  Cheeks stuffed like a hamster, she glanced up at the guy who was responsible for this heaven. He was standing with his foot on the other chair, leaning forward with his arms resting on his raised knee. He was grinning at her.

She chewed and swallowed what was in her mouth, washing it down with a long drink of milk as she studied him. He was stunning. All lean muscles and bright blue eyes. Had he rescued her last night? Her eye flickered away from him for a moment. There was a long leather coat hung up on the usually empty hook outside of the door to the unused bedroom.

_Her hands, sliding across black leather._

She looked back at him. His hair. Bright blond.

_It’d looked white in the dark._

He hadn’t rescued her from the monster, he was the monster.

Her fork clattered to the plate as she hastily stood up and made a run for the front door. The guy beat her there and she nearly collided with him. His hands circled around her upper arms, steadying her as she stopped short.

“Who are you?”

“Spike.” His eyes bored into her.

“What are you?”

“Smart one, aren’t you?” His smile was cold. “Vampire.” Buffy squeaked, squirming to get away. Surprisingly, he let her go, though he continued to block the door.

She stepped back, then planted her feet. “Why haven’t you killed me?”

“Stopped wanting to.”  Spike pulled a cigarette out from where it’d been tucked behind his ear and rolled it between his fingers.

“Well, that’s good.” She looked around her tiny apartment. “Still doesn’t explain why you bought me shampoo, food, and… hey! Don’t light that!”

Spike had pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. He froze with his hand cupped around the end of the cigarette.

“The second-hand smoke isn’t good for the baby…babies.” Buffy put her hands on her hips and glared down her nose at the vampire.

His face fell. The lighter snapped closed and disappeared into his pocket while the cigarette went back behind his ear. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Now answer my question.”

“It’s complicated.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Try me.”

“I…bloody hell.” He swiped a hand down his face and started pacing. She didn’t budge.  “Look, I’ve always done better with someone to…to…to take care of. Drusilla, she was with me for a hundred and seventeen years, until she got killed a few months back. I…I’ve been a wreck. No purpose, drifting, kept thinking I’d just end it all, you know?” He sat down hard on the floor. “I’ve been so lonely. Then last night, there you were, and the bits, and you…” Spike was openly weeping now. “I just meant to carry you back home, but you didn’t have any food, or shampoo, or, or anything. I could make that all better. I can take care of you.”

Buffy wanted to go to the crying man crumpled on her floor and comfort him. He wasn’t kidding about being a wreck. Another part of her wanted to kick him in the head and tell him she didn’t need anyone’s help. Only that wasn’t true. And it wasn’t just her she had to think about.  Her lack of food could already have affected the lives growing inside her. She turned her back on the man…vampire…Spike, and sat in her chair at the table to continue eating her breakfast.  What kind of evil monster bought and put up a shower curtain?

After a few minutes, she turned her head to look at him. He was still sitting on the floor, watching her eat with hope in his eyes.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“To stay here, to help you and the little ones.”

She snorted. “Tell me another one. No guy wants to take on the kind of mess I am.”

Suddenly he was right beside her with a freezing cold hand on her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I do.”

“No, you don’t. I’m not going to get less pregnant and two little kids that need constant care and attention? That cry and need their diapers changed?” Buffy shook her head. The father of her children hadn’t wanted the responsibility. Some stranger didn’t get to say he’d step up and invite himself into her life permanently. “You’ll be gone in a flash. Or worse, you’ll wait until they’re old enough to know you before you remember you don’t have to provide them with a damned thing. You’ll disappear and you’ll break their hearts.”

Emotions flickered over Spike’s face too fast for her to read before he managed to clamp down on them. Calm settled like a mask over his features. “You seem to know a terrible lot about me.”

“I know you planned to kill me.”

He dropped her chin and spun away from her, his hands curling into fists. “I’m not going to do that, not now, not ever. And you don’t know me. I don’t leave just because things get rough, or they don’t turn out how I expect.” He paused. “And I’m not asking for you to do things you don’t want to. I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”

Buffy frowned at his back. Well, that was too bad. Though men who looked like he did could probably sleep with whoever they wanted, dumpy pregnant ladies need not apply.

“I…I don’t think I can make it, on my own,” he whispered. “Please, let me try. I can take care of you, I know I can.”

Buffy sighed. Hopefully she wasn’t going to regret this, but she was out of other options. “You can stay,” she said quietly. “For right now.” She looked down at the mostly empty plate. For the first time in months she was full.

Spike sat in the chair across from her. He was studying her with a guarded look.

“Thank you, for breakfast.” She didn’t want to appear ungracious.

“You’re welcome, though I’m afraid eggs and bacon are about the limits of my cooking skills.”

Buffy snorted. “So you mean you’re a typical man?”

He blinked at her, then grinned. “Suppose so.” His smile did funny things to her. Things she’d believed she’d never feel again. Being close to him was going to take some getting used to, especially with the pregnancy hormones doing crazy things to her system.

She took another bite of toast. It was probably a good thing to remember he’d been close to killing her last night. And what did you talk about with a vampire, anyway? Might as well start with the big stuff. “Your face, in the alley last night, it looked different.”

Spike sighed. “Was hoping you’d forget about that,” he muttered.

“Can I see?”

****

He didn’t want her to see the demon. Didn’t want to remind her of the monster he was. Not after she’d called him a typical man.

But Buffy was looking at him expectantly.

Painfully slowly, he let his features shift and his fangs descend. Her heart rate sped up, but she didn’t scream or take off. Instead she looked, her head cocked to the side, toast forgotten in her hand. After a very uncomfortable minute she stood up and walked over to him. Hesitantly, she put a hand out and ran her warm fingers over his brow.

He didn’t dare breathe.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

“No. Feels good, like scratching an itch in the middle of your back.” 

She hummed in answer and continued to explore. The pad of one finger ran over his lips and he parted them silently so she could see his fangs.

“Are you frightened?” he said against her finger.

“Yes.”

“You should be.”

“You can say that, but then you bought me a toothbrush. That doesn’t exactly seem like something you’d do for someone you’re about to kill.”

“Suppose not.”

Her hand dropped away and he nearly caught it to bring it back to his skin. She’d felt so warm, alive. She was everything he wasn’t. Buffy remained close, scrutinizing him. Watching her eyes, he settled his hand over the swell of her abdomen. Her breath hitched.

“Can you really hear them?”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “Two precious little heartbeats, fast as a hummingbird’s.” She closed her eyes and her hand settled over his.

“They’re all I have.”

“Not all.”

She remained silent, not arguing or agreeing, and her hand stayed pressed against his. He bowed his head and forced his demon back.

Neither moved, the ticking of the clock the only sound.

At last Buffy exhaled loudly. Her fingers left his to run once over his hair. He tried not to read anything into it. His head had just been close. “I’m going to have a shower,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” he muttered. Everything inside him felt up in the air. Whoever he’d been, the demon Drusilla had made him, had fractured into a million pieces when she’d dusted. Now, for the first time, he thought those pieces might somehow go back together, only he didn’t know what the picture on the box looked like anymore.

****

The new shampoo smelled divine. Like vanilla with just a hint of something else to keep her head from essentially turning into a cookie. Buffy had no idea what she was doing, telling some stranger he could just live with her. Was he going to pay rent? What if it was front for him to sell drugs? The whole thing defied logic. Then there was the unreasonable part of her that wanted to ignore any kind of logical thought process and keep him around just in case he changed his mind and wanted to jump her bones. Of course, the last time she’d listened to that part of her she’d wound up pregnant and dumped.

She turned off the water and got out, drying herself with a big fluffy towel. It was soft, and sure beat the heck out of the threadbare, dishtowel-sized one she’d been using. She carefully hung it up and looked at her dirty clothes. There was no way she was going to put them back on. She reached for the towel again, but her eye caught what was hanging from a new hook on the back of the bathroom door. Robes. She stared. One was pink and fuzzy, and the other was midnight black, though still kind of fuzzy. Because heaven forbid the scary vampire should wear any other color. She rolled her eyes.

The pink robe was comfortable and warm. Spike had no business being so…nice. And thoughtful. And good looking. Damn it. Okay, so she had no real idea what she was getting herself into, but she didn’t have to be a doormat because he’d bought her stuff. She would just march out there and make sure he knew he couldn’t walk all over her.

Chin high, she exited the bathroom. The first thing she saw was the breakfast dishes neatly washed and drying on the rack by the sink. Well, that was unexpected.

The second was Spike, teetering on a chair, stretching up to hang a curtain rod. His shirt had pulled out of his jeans, which themselves were riding dangerously low on his hips. The bare expanse of his pale back that was showing caught and held her gaze. The lusty voice she’d been trying to ignore got a little bit louder.

Buffy curled her fingers into the fabric of her robe.

“Everything okay, pet? I’m just about done here.”

He could take as long as wanted to. That was alright.

“I found these in the bedroom, thought I’d hang ‘em.”

The curtains had been left by a previous tenant and were a cheery yellow color. Buffy hadn’t been tall enough to put them up without risking life and limb and had been feeling the lack of that touch of normalcy. Spike putting them up, well, it was like he was making the apartment a home.

“Uh, thanks.” Buffy wiped her palms on the robe, suddenly nervous about making demands of the guy currently putting up curtains for her. But dang it, this was her place. “Hey, I have some conditions if you’re going to be living here.”

“Shoot,” he grunted.

“Well, first, you have to pay at least half the rent.”

“That’s a given.”

She let a breath out. It’d been her biggest concern; thank god he wasn’t fighting her over it. Of course, it wasn’t like she had the money in hand yet. “And no smoking in here, you can sit out on the fire escape.”

“Can do.” Spike finished and hopped down to get the curtain and rod. He stepped back on the chair and placed the crossbar with the curtains hanging from it in place. They looked good, bright against the grey of the late afternoon drizzle. Dusting his hands off, he faced her. “Anything else on your rules list?”

She bit her lip. “This is still my place. No “friends” of any kind over, at all. Period.”

“Friends?” He looked confused.

Buffy crossed her arms. Of course he’d be thick and need it spelled it out for him. “If I come home from work, or the store, or wherever, and you’re screwing some stupid chick in my bed that’s it, you’re out. Take that kind of thing anywhere but here!”

Spike cocked his head to the side, then chuckled. He put a hand out and tapped the end of her nose as he walked by. “No worries, kitten. You can pull your claws back in.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. He dropped the new tools into a box in the nearly empty bedroom, and came back with two plastic sacks.

“Here, got you a few things that’ll hopefully fit better than what you’ve been wearing.” His voice was rough. He flopped down on the futon, which currently had its back up like a couch, and turned on the new TV that’d been perched on top of one of the chairs from the kitchen table. The old one was sitting unplugged on the floor.

“Thanks,” she said, returning to the bathroom and closing the door.

The jeans with the elastic waist weren’t stylish, but it felt so good to put on something that fit. Buffy had to laugh, though, as every shirt he’d bought her had a deep scoop or v-neckline. Not a turtleneck among them. She picked a pink blouse and quickly dried her hair and put it up in a ponytail. She felt almost normal.

“You work tonight?” Spike asked when she exited.

“Nope. Tomorrow.” She sat at the opposite end of the futon and put her arms around a pillow.

“Chinese for dinner?”

She moaned at the thought.

Spike shot her what she was sure was an annoyed look and crossed his legs. “I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“Please! Sesame beef, and egg rolls, and oh my god, I can’t wait to put it in my mouth.”

Spike looked heavenward.


	3. Lo Mein

Broke our mirrors

-Nirvana, “Lithium”

****

Spike was fairly certain it was guilt he was feeling as he watched Buffy stuff noodles into her mouth. She was sitting on the floor, watching TV with her back against the futon and the carton of Lo Mein in her hand. Every time she laughed her ponytail swayed, and every time she took a breath the tops of her breast peeked out from the neckline of her blouse.

Yeah, guilt.

He was stretched out on his side on the futon, his head propped up on one arm.

Buffy was the polar opposite of Drusilla. His dark princess had been the center of his entire existence for so long that he hadn’t been able to imagine life without her in it, not until he’d been forced to deal with the reality. And more shocking than her death had been the fact that he hadn’t simply greeted the sun after he’d ended the life of the Slayer that had forever altered his existence. Instead, he’d got into his car and started driving aimlessly north.

Always north.

Because Dru had wanted to go south.

But Drusilla wasn’t there to tell him where to go any more. He’d become an aimless compass. A vestigial limb still moving after the rest of the body had perished. Again and again he’d planned his end, only to shy away at the last possible second. He was so useless he even failed at dusting his own pathetic carcass.  Drusilla had made him, defined him, and without her he’d been less than nothing.

Until Buffy and the two wee passengers she had on board.

By all rights the girl should be terrified of him. She should be dead, her throat torn out, the lives in her belly snuffed…

Spike’s demon surfaced in a rush. Cold fear washed over him as he struggled to push it back, he wouldn’t let it-

Wait, it was fighting against him to stop…no, mate, he soothed. I’m not going to hurt her. We’ll keep her safe. The demon finally subsided and he was able to get his human mask back into place. It was a good thing Buffy was watching and giggling over whatever inane thing was on the telly and hadn’t seen him scuffle with himself. She probably would have thrown him out on his ear.

The guilt redoubled. He should be dust, returned to the nothingness from which Drusilla had saved him. He’d orbited around her for so long. Her destruction should have been his. He’d been a lost satellite drifting aimlessly, now unexpectedly sucked into the gravity of the sun. Spike frowned. He was getting melodramatic.

He reached a hand out and touched the ends of her hair where her ponytail was brushing against the futon’s cushion. _La joie venait toujours apres la peine._

Buffy tilted her head so she could see him. “You’re very tense back there.”

With a groan, Spike sat upright and stretched. 

“Here, have more of your Hunan beef.” She plunked the carton in his hands. “I feel weird stuffing my face alone.”

He took a bite, enjoying the spicy flavor. Buffy’s hand brushed over the slight swell of her belly, as if she’d suddenly remembered that she was never quite alone. The show she’d been watching had gone to credits and Spike nabbed the remote and muted the sound. “Tell me about him,” Spike grunted in between mouthfuls.

“About who?”

“The bloke that got you in trouble and ran like a coward.”

“Oh.” She was silent for a moment, but her mind had to be working since she was stabbing at her fried rice rather savagely. “I thought he was going to be there forever, that he was the one.”

Spike’s heart twisted. He knew that feeling, and what it was like to have it dashed. First when Angelus had shown him that Dru was never really going to be his, and most recently when the Sunnydale Slayer had taken her away for good. Forever could be far too short.

“What’s his name?”

“Riley. He’s from Iowa.” She paused to munch on an egg roll, ripping into it with enough ferocity to make Spike cringe. Riley was certainly a persona non grata in her world. “Okay, look, here’s Buffy’s sad, short story. I was kicked out at barely sixteen by my mom. I had a boyfriend at the time, he was older, but he turned out to be a real jerk. There was another guy, who turned out to be there for the night and nothing more, and then there was Riley. He’s military, clean cut and all-American. I met him while tending bar in a little dump of a place near the waterfront. He was nice.” She looked down at the carton in her hands, her fork stuck in it, forgotten.

“Was?” Spike prompted.

“This is probably more than you want to hear, but Riley moved me in with him. I thought we were going to get married. Money was tight so I wasn’t on the pill and Riley wouldn’t let me go to a family planning clinic to get it free. That place was against what his church believed in, or something. And he didn’t like condoms. Only, I don’t know, I wasn’t really worried, right?”

“You guys do anything for birth control?”

Her face flamed red. “He’d, erm, at the end…”

“Pull out?” Spike supplied. Buffy positively glowed with embarrassment. He wondered if he licked her cheek if he’d be able to taste all the lovely blood. The demon gave a warning growl. Spike avoided rolling his eyes. Just lick, he emphasized.

“Yeah, that.”

“Wasn’t the biggest surprise you got knocked up then.”

“Looking back on it, no I thought we were going to get hitched anyway and that a baby would just speed things up.”

“Not what happened.”

Abruptly she stood up and walked to the window to open it. Humid air filled with the damp scent of the city wafted in. “No.” Buffy wrapped her arms around herself. “He kicked me out right then and there. A week later when I went to look for him the apartment was empty and the neighbors said he’d left for some super-secret mission.”  

Her face was filled with pain. Her whole being was awash in it.

“That’s not all, is it?” he asked quietly, setting his carton down and slowly walking across the carpet until he was beside her. Together they looked out at the streetlights and passing cars.

“When he kicked me out he said some pretty unforgivable stuff. Some really nasty stuff, about how I was evil and that being pregnant was punishment for my sins, along with a bunch of things you don’t repeat to someone you’ve just met.”

“Ah.” Spike’s hands clenched into fists. If he ever saw him, Riley would be so much dead meat. They would be picking him up with a sponge. “You know you’re not evil, right kitten?”

Buffy hummed a not-quite agreement.

“I should know,” he added.

She smiled softly. “I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re a mum, and you’re trying damn hard to do the best with the shite hand you’ve been dealt.”

“I was close to starvation.”

Spike cocked his head, looking at her profile. “You just needed a hand up, is all. No shame in that.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He wanted to tell her that she might have saved his life as well, but was afraid it’d scare her. He needed to take care of her in a desperate, hungry way that he barely even understood. He wanted to be everything to her, but that wasn’t the kind of baggage you summarily dumped on a young, pregnant, girl.

Buffy sighed and shifted her weight. “Do you have any kids?”

“No, and no one else that’s looking for me to come home to them.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Back before I was turned, I didn’t have a wife and wasn’t the kind to be sowing wild oats. And now I can’t.”

A little, disappointed frown turned the corners of her mouth down. Well, wasn’t that bloody interesting.

“That’s too bad,” she murmured.

“Equipment all still works, just no live swimmers, if you get my drift.” He watched her lips and was rewarded when one side quirked upwards.

Abruptly, Buffy spun away from the window. “You want any more Chinese?”

“I’m good.”

“Then can you take the trash out?”

“Yeah, of course.” The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about them. He chuckled to himself. The big bad vamp carrying the trash out. Though the dumpster was down three flights of stairs in a demon-owned building, out back in an alley, and it was night. Buffy was never carrying out her own trash ever again.

He wondered how many times she’d put herself at risk keeping things tidy. Buffy had rounded up the leftover Chinese food into the fridge and pulled the trash bag from its bin.  “You’re awesome,” she said, handing him the bag with a grateful smile. Spike stood, clutching the trash and feeling like the king of the universe.

****

Buffy was standing, hands on hips, and surveying her apartment. It was so different than when she’d left for work yesterday. The curtains made it look homey. There was food in the fridge. The TV got more than one channel.

From the bathroom, a muffled voice was rumbling through some eighties punk song.

The vampire singing in the shower was also new. He seemed to take up a lot of room, even though she supposed he wasn’t that tall. Or at least compared to Riley he wasn’t that tall. Spike wasn’t as bulky as Riley, either. She wondered what the being-a-vampire part meant, exactly.

He’d eaten dinner with her, had been in her sunny apartment with her all day, and she was certain there’d been garlic in the Chinese food. Also, there was the lack of a coffin, and most likely he didn’t turn into a bat. Probably? She frowned. What if he put a bar up and slept hanging upside down?

She needed to stop watching so many movies.

There’d been fangs. She needed to remember that. If only he was less likeable. Or less lickable. Either one. Spike was kind of distracting.

Still humming, Spike walked out of the bathroom. He was toweling his hair dry.

And he didn’t have a shirt on.

His jeans had been replaced with a pair of black pajama bottoms that didn’t seem all that interested in staying up on his hips. Buffy knew she was hormonal soup at the best of times, but now every last cell in her body had woken up and was screaming at her to touch the pretty vampire.

Ugh.

She put his words about not wanting a girlfriend on a loop in her head.

“Everything okay, luv?” he asked, draping his wet towel over the back of a chair.

“Uh, yeah.” Yay! Power of speech. “Where are you going to sleep?”

He shrugged a shoulder and meandered to the fridge, opening it and bending over to grab something out of the back. Unfortunately, gravity didn’t hear her plea and his pants valiantly continued to cling to him. Damn. He stood up and popped the top off a beer.

“I’d offer you one, but-“ He gestured vaguely in the direction of her stomach.

“It’s okay. It’s the coffee I miss more.”

“Poor thing,” he said, then tilted his head back and chugged the beer. Guh. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the muscles of his arm bunching up as he held the bottle. There were a lot of muscles, in all kinds of places. That wasn’t fair.

Suddenly she felt both very pregnant and very tired. She was out of resources for dealing with Spike or with her body, which didn’t belong to her anymore. She turned away from the sight that was leading her mind down a garden path of dirty thoughts and went to put the futon into its flat position. She’d barely bent over the frame when Spike was right there and doing it for her. Surprised, she immediately backed up a couple of paces. He made quick work of getting it set.

“There we go. Where’s your sheets?”

“Ah, there’s just the blanket and pillows.” She picked up the grey comforter from where it lay neatly folded on the floor and spread it over the futon’s mattress. Spike tossed the two pillows to one end and sat down. Wait, there was no way he could sleep next to her!

“I’ll fix that tomorrow, when I’m less done in,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Something with a nice thread count.”

“You’re sleeping here?” she squeaked.

He sighed. “You got another bed you’re not telling me about?”

“No, just. This is where I sleep!”

He chuckled. “I figured that much out, kitten. I promise not to bite.” His smile was wolfish and his eyes were gleaming with mirth.

“Very funny, mister.” Only it wasn’t, because ha-ha, she obviously didn’t need to worry that the hot guy was going to molest her. A baby bump was a pretty effective way to make sure no one saw her as sexual. Which was weird because how did they think she ended up this way?  It was like as soon as she’d ticked the ‘pregnant’ box she’d unchecked any chance of being attractive to anyone. She gave up, it’s not like she could ask someone who’d been so generous to her to sleep on the floor. “Fine, but get in and scoot over, because I sleep on this side.”

“Not bloody likely. You get in and cozy yourself up.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “The pregnant lady needs quick access to the bathroom.” She nearly jumped out of her skin when Spike let out an honest-to-god growl. He sounded like an animal. She gasped and Spike’s eyes flew to her face.

“Oh god, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Buffy, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He was on his feet in one second and far too close to her in the next. His cold hands covered hers. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms protectively over her stomach. “I’m sorry. I…look, Buffy, I absolutely need to sleep between you and the door. I know it’s unlikely anything dangerous is going to come waltzing in here in the middle of the night, but I have to be ready to defend you.”

“Oh,” was the only thing she could think to say. No one had ever offered to shield her with their own life before. Even if it was only from hypothetical badness.

“Here.” He darted to the futon and easily pulled it away from the wall, leaving a path. “And I’ll push it back in the morning. “Deal?”

She nodded and climbed onto the mattress. Spike settled down on the very edge of the futon, his broad back to her. It’d be easy to reach out and run her hand over the smooth expanse. With a huff, she turned over on her other side.

“Are you going to turn off the lights?” she asked after a second.

“Oh, right.” The futon shook as he got up and plunged the apartment into darkness. He returned and she found it annoying how his body lying next to her changed the feel of the mattress. She was subtly shifted towards the dip he made. And while he couldn’t be that heavy, the addition of his weight to the bed forced the padding more towards her side and the bed didn’t seem as soft as usual.

Stupid vampire.

She’d complain if she wasn’t so tired.

Sleep must have caught her quickly, because the next thing she knew was hazily waking up with her eyelids feeling too heavy to open. It was still dark. Next to her, Spike shifted restlessly. It was impossible to tell if he was awake or simply dreaming. He rolled over and fluffed the pillow. Awake, she hazarded a guess.

Buffy tried to decide if she was awake because she needed to pee or because her bedmate was fussing. After a few minutes of lying there, she figured it’d just been Spike tossing and turning. Sleep was fast dragging her back down.

There was a small shift from behind her, then cool fingers wormed their way between her hip and the mattress. Spike sighed contentedly before going completely silent and still.

She didn’t know what to think. That barely-there connection was so comforting. She wanted to turn over into his arms, press her face against his chest, and beg him to take care of her forever. To promise her he’d never leave, that he’d always stand between her and the bad things in the world. Even if it was a lie. Even if he planned to leave in the morning and this had been nothing but a dream with Lo Mein.

She took a breath and forced her mind away from that track. She’d heard always twice before and she knew that the only person she could depend on was herself. Tossing herself at a man was not going to make things better for her or her babies. She’d accept what Spike was offering, for now, and take things one day at a time.

Tomorrow she had to go work. Spike’s fingertips twitched slightly, reminding her of his presence. If he was still there when she got home, then she’d think more about what having him around meant. After her feet stopped hurting and she’d showered the grease off.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La joie venait toujours apres la peine. (please forgive my lack of proper accent use in apres): Joy always comes after the pain. -Guillame Apollinaire, "Le Pont Mirabeau" 


	4. Oatmeal

Totally motionless except for her heart

                -The Presidents of the United States of America, “Lump”

****

The apron stank.

Buffy wrinkled her nose and waited. Her stomach rolled, but nothing threatened to come back up. Yay for the second trimester. She’d spent enough time with her head hanging over a toilet to last her for the next forever, thank you very much.

She tied the worn black strings behind her back. When she’d first started working at Jake’s Diner she’d been able to wrap the strings all the way around her waist and make a cute bow in the front. That wasn’t going to be happening again anytime soon.

At least her stomach wasn’t growling. When she’d woken up that morning, Spike had already been up, dressed, and had a pot of oatmeal simmering on the stove. She’d never had it made like that before. Oatmeal had always come in those little packets and you cooked it in the microwave. She’d never really been a big fan, but when Spike had put a steaming bowl full of the stuff from the stove down in front of her and added butter, maple syrup, and a dash of cinnamon, Buffy had discovered that oatmeal was delicious.

She’d moaned her way through the bowl while Spike had occasionally glanced at her from over the top of a newspaper he’d gotten from who the hell knew where.

Lunch had been grilled cheese and tomato soup. She was starting to feel spoiled. Spike had offered to drive her to work, but she’d turned him down flat. The walk was good for her and it was one of her favorite parts of the day. It was also fairly easy, only being two blocks up the steep Seattle hills, then five blocks over. Buffy enjoyed watching the people, imagining their lives, and the cool salt air was always refreshing. Plus, she passed no fewer than six coffee shops, and a girl could always dream while she walked through the yummy aroma of lattes and mochas.

As she’d walked out the door Spike had frowned at her threadbare coat, but as of right this second it still fit and did its job, so she couldn’t complain. Once at work she’d traded her jacket for the icky apron. The diner was a real, old fashioned greasy spoon, with black and white chipped linoleum on the floor, worn vinyl benches, yellow walls with pictures of old fishing boats, and nearly everything they served was a heart attack on a plate.

With a sigh, Buffy smoothed down the front of her apron over the swell of her belly. Only eight hours to go, she told the twins. Eight hours of grease and surly customers. She squared her shoulders. She could do anything for eight hours.

Pushing through the double doors from the back there was a startled yelp as she collided with a warm body. “Willow! Sorry!” Buffy gasped and grabbed her friend’s arms to steady her and keep her from dropping the plate she was holding.

“Whoa, thanks. That was almost with the suckage.” Willow, her long red hair in braids, finished delivering the meatloaf and mashed to the waiting customer. Buffy checked the coffee and started a fresh pot.

Grabbing several empty napkin dispensers, Willow came to stand beside her at the counter. It was still relatively early and the dinner rush hadn’t begun yet. They’d been friends since the first shift they’d shared. Willow was the same age as Buffy, and like her, Willow had been kicked out of her house at the age of sixteen. Though for Willow it wasn’t because of delinquency, but because she’d announced one night, during an argument with her parents, that she was a lesbian. She’d spent the next night shivering under a bridge.

Willow was couch surfing at her friend Xander’s place, hoping to save up enough money for her own apartment before she wore out her welcome. Over the last two years Willow had raised not staying too long with one person to an art form. Buffy knew she was probably on Willow’s list of potential friends to stay with now, since they’d gotten to know each other over the last couple of months. However, things were still okay with Xander, who worked in construction and was an all around nice guy. Occasionally the three of them would hang out and watch movies together. In another life, Buffy thought she and Xander might have hit it off, but with her baby on board status it was obvious he wasn’t interested. So friends it was and, really, she was cool with that.

Most men ran a mile as soon as they caught wind of her pregnancy and its accompanying sense of responsibility. Except Spike. Thinking of her new roommate made her smile at the coffee maker.

“You’re looking chipper,” Willow said. “Did you spend an extra long time standing in front of Starbuck’s breathing deeply today?”

“Nope, only my allotted three minutes.” Buffy laughed. God, she missed coffee. The stuff with chocolate, milk, and whipped cream on top, not the concentrated motor oil the diner served.

“Then spill, if it’s not caffeine you’ve got some kind of secret.” Willow narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute, does this secret have a name?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I swear, it’s like you have magic powers.”

Willow giggled. “Dish, now. Or as your senior I’ll make you wipe under the tables.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I so would.”

“Fine, but I’m warning you, it’s actually not that exciting.”

“Sure, whatever,” Willow huffed as she jammed as many napkins as possible into a holder.

Buffy quirked her lips. “Well, maybe it’s a little exciting.”

Willow dropped the napkins and leaned towards Buffy, eyes wide.

“I was walking home after work the other night and I, uh, ran into this guy.” Buffy swallowed hard, it was only a kind of lie. “I was so tired and hungry that I passed out and fell right into his arms.”

Willow gasped. Buffy figured she should leave out the part about the fangs. That would just make her sound crazy.

“He carried me home and then just sort of moved in. He hadn’t been planning to stay in Seattle. His girlfriend died several months ago and he’s just been drifting ever since then. I guess he likes having someone to take care of.”

“That so romantic,” Willow sighed.

Buffy snorted.

“But, Buffy.” Willow bit her lip and straightened up. “He could be a serial killer for all you know.” She crossed her arms.

“He could be.” Buffy shrugged. “Only he bought me a new shower curtain and hung it up.”

Willow’s mouth fell open.

“Right? Also, he’s been cooking for me. Nothing fancy, mostly guy-type foods.”

“Are you screwing this paragon?” Willow asked bluntly.

Buffy blushed. “No. He told me he’s not interested in that kind of relationship right now. I don’t know if he’s still grieving his dead girlfriend or if he was just letting me down easy.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s kind of gorgeous.” Buffy sighed. He really was. “I’m sure he doesn’t have trouble finding whatever kind of girls he wants. Short, pregnant ladies probably don’t feature on his list of turn-ons.”

“Oh, sweetie, no.” Willow took both of Buffy’s hands in hers. “Don’t. You’re beautiful, inside and out. I’d totally hit on you if you were gay.” Willow paused. “You’re not, are you?”

Buffy smiled. “Flatterer, and no, sorry Willow. Even though Riley was a massive jerk it turns out I still like guy-shaped people.”

“Oh well, I will forever mourn our love that could have been.” Willow dramatically put a hand to her forehead.

Buffy poked her in the ribs. “Quit it!”

Giggling, Willow picked up the now-full napkin dispensers. “Seriously, though, if your new live-in weirdo serial killer guy can’t see how special you are, then phooey on him.”

“He’s not a serial killer.” Probably, Buffy hoped.

“Says you.”

The door opened and a new customer entered along with a blast of damp air. Buffy pulled out her order pad and trusty pen. Time to get to work. “Duty calls.”

****

Spike stood in the shadows of the alley, leaning against the bricks and watching the crowded sidewalk. People were bundled against the cold, damp air. Even though it was only November, the shops were starting to gear up for the Christmas rush. Some had holly and tinsel already decking their halls. It wouldn’t be hard to find a decent meal amid all the hustle and bustle.

He could slip into a bar and easily convince some lonely woman to leave with him. This time of year it was especially easy. That was the crux of the problem with that idea; it’d be too bloody easy. He’d been playing domestic with Buffy and now he wanted the hunt.

His middle was hollow and the thirst was burning the back of his throat.

_Feed._

_That’s the plan, mate_. The demon was agitated. Much longer and he wouldn’t be at full strength, wouldn’t be able to protect Buffy. It was making him antsy. The idea of absolutely anything happening to her was unbearable.

Part of him knew she wouldn’t understand what a vampire did to stay alive and would hate him for it. Right now she seemed to be doing her damned best to ignore the fact he’d nearly had her for supper. Maybe she thought he could get by on human food? He wasn’t about to enlighten her, but he also wasn’t about to change. He was what he was.

Buffy’s green eyes, smiling as she’d downed the oatmeal he’d made her that morning swam before his face. He shook the image away and vamped out, hoping the demon being on the surface would keep him focused.

He heard voices in the building across from the one he was leaning on. He took a step sideways, deeper into the darkness. They got louder and a door banged open. A young woman, black hair bobbed and dressed entirely inappropriately for the weather, was screaming obscenities at a man with a greasy ponytail that looked higher than a kite. With a huff the woman slammed the door shut and then turned and shakily marched off further down the alley instead of towards the street. Perfect.

Spike watched her for a few seconds, then followed. A little further along and he deliberately knocked a can off a ledge so it clattered to the pavement. The woman halted and her heart rate kicked up. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder before she began to walk a little faster.

Delighting in her fear, he closed the gap between them. Tongue running across his fangs he deliberately stepped heavily on a patch of gravel. The crunch was obscenely loud. The woman froze. She looked over her shoulder again and this time he didn’t disappear entirely into the shadows. She wouldn’t quite be able to see him, but she’d know something was there. Something dark, something deadly. Her heart was slamming against the cage of her ribs. It was its own, sweet music. Her terror was a delicious, palpable thing. She knew she wouldn’t be leaving the alley.

For several long moments the woman stood, her eyes wide with dread, before her instincts took over. She ran. Silently, Spike gave chase. The woman’s animal hind-brain was flooding her system with adrenaline, pushing her to go faster, to escape the dark thing chasing her.

She darted around the corner where two alleys intersected. Maybe she even tasted hope for second. A brief flare that would have died as Spike reached out and almost casually caught her shoulder. He jerked her back against his chest with one clawed hand covering her mouth to muffle her scream. His fangs tore into her throat. In a rush her warm blood, spiced with fear, filled his mouth. He drank greedily. The woman’s legs gave out and he followed her down to the ground.

Her heartrate skyrocketed as the organ vainly tried to keep her alive. The gush of blood from the bite finally slowed to a trickle. The woman was no longer breathing and hung limp in his arms. Her heart gave up. It’s double-time rhythm became an erratic, staccato stumble until at last it grew still.

Spike withdrew his fangs from the wound, throwing his head back and glorying in the familiar, primal sensation that washed over him. The one that said he was the alpha predator. The lion on the savanna, the shark in the blue ocean depths. The one that promised that he would never again be made to feel like he was beneath any human.

He craved it beyond anything else.

_Almost._

Spike frowned in confusion as the feeling of being satisfied fled. His demon hid itself away and he was left blinking, his head muddled.

A light flicked on behind a frosted glass window above him. The shaft of muted light fell over the body he was still holding. He glanced down as he slowly turned her over. The light caught her open and fixed eyes. They were brilliant green.

Buffy’s eyes.

His chest constricted.

He was holding her. Sunshine blonde hair spilled over his arm. Her head lolled on her neck, and the roundness of her belly, the tiny heartbeats silent, mocked him.

With an anguished cry, he dropped her body to the dirty concrete and jumped back, away from her accusing stare. He sank to his knees, hiding his head in his hands. Anguish ripped through him.

No, no, no, no, no!

Not her. Anyone but her.

He heaved a breath through his nose. Only foreign scents rushed in. No Buffy. Slowly, he lowered his hands, stood, and crossed to the body. Short, dark hair. Grey eyes.

Snarling, Spike savagely kicked the dead girl. Sod this. He was just missing his girl, that was all, and maybe his meal had been high on something, or he’d popped his back and had a Woodstock flashback. He raked a hand down his face and shook his head to clear it. A quick search through the corpse’s pockets resulted in a tidy wad of cash. Nice. There was a couple hundred dollars, more than enough for a new set of sheets.

Roughly, he dragged the body towards a nearby sewer grate. One thing Seattle excelled in was places to dispose of bodies. There was a whole underground to the city that had been created as the humans had built upwards. Most of the dark corners had been forgotten and the nasties had moved right in. No few of them found dead flesh fine dining.

With a grunt, he swung the grate open. The fetid air that rose out of the hole smelt like a whole nest of quongiz was close by. That’d work, they didn’t even leave teeth behind. “Dinner bell’s ringing!” he cheerily called into the blackness. There was a buzzing, rasping noise as the quongiz wake and swarmed towards him. Spike shoved the body down the hole without a second thought. He closed the grate with a clang and dusted off his hands.

Belly full, he walked back to the street and checked the clock on a bank’s electric sign. There was still plenty of time left for him to go to the shops before he went to pick up Buffy. After all, he couldn’t let her walk home alone. Anything could be waiting to grab her.

****

Willow figured she’d regret volunteering to stay and close the restaurant when she had to get up too early and come back work tomorrow, but the person that’d been scheduled hadn’t showed, and when Jake had stopped by he’d slipped her an extra twenty dollars to take care of things. Technically payday was tomorrow, but Jake wasn’t one to stand on propriety, or get up at a reasonable time in the morning. At least he actually paid them and never tried to stiff any of the staff, and he never asked too many questions as long as the work got mostly done.

A light drizzle was falling as Willow followed Buffy out the front door of the diner to say goodnight. Buffy had seemed inordinately worried until Willow had sworn up and down that Xander was going to pick her up. It must be some mother-hen nesting instinct thing. Not that it wasn’t nice to be fussed over.

Outside the wet pavement reflected the neon lights up and down the street, making everything look prettier than it should. Willow really was worried about her friend. Buffy had a lot of trouble asking for help, no matter how badly she needed it. If this guy was feeding her and making sure she was taken care of, maybe things would turn out okay, but Willow didn’t have high hopes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buffy asked.

“You know it!”

There was a loud honk from the street, making both Buffy and her whip their heads towards the sound.  A big, black car was double parked and a guy was standing on the sideboard of the car so he could lean on the roof. He was pale with bleached hair that was slicked back and was dressed in black everything, including what was probably a real leather duster. The jerk. Some animal had died to make that coat.

Beside her, Buffy lit up like a thousand-watt bulb.

Oh no, was this her new roommate?

The guy grinned goofily and jumped down, slamming the car door behind him. He had a cigarette in hand that he dropped on the street and stomped out. In an instant he was beside Buffy, pulling her into a one armed hug and dropping a kiss on the top of her head. His eyes met Buffy’s for a second and then both of them stepped apart and looked at absolutely anything but each other. Was Buffy blind as a bat? Did pregnancy make you a dolt? The guy was so interested in her he was nearly wearing a sign with it printed neatly across the front.

“Willow, this is my roommate, Spike, and Spike, this is my good friend Willow.” Buffy smiled.

“Hello, Red,” the guy drawled. Spike? Willow blinked. They guy was named Spike? And he had an English accent?

“You’re not what I was expecting,” Willow blurted before she could stop herself.

Buffy crossed her arms and Spike raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, uh…Buffy was a cheerleader in high school,” Willow cringed as Buffy blushed bright red. “And I thought there was some constitutional amendment that said all cheerleaders had to hang out with dudes that look like football players.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have you know I can bend it like Beckham, thank you very much.”

Yup, he was totally English., and what the heck was he talking about?

“She means American football. Y’know, guys with helmets and shoulder pads?” Buffy said with a giggle as she patted Spike on the arm.

Spike frowned. “Ah.” He glanced up and down the street and took a small step closer to Buffy, almost like he was expecting some linebacker to jump out and carry her off.

Okay, Willow really, really needed to have a talk with Buffy. She and Spike kept glancing at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It was a minor miracle they weren’t making out right there on the sidewalk.

“Shift go okay?” Spike rumbled.

“It wasn’t too bad,” Buffy replied, darting another glance at him from under her lashes. Willow sighed. It was almost painful to watch.

“The bits doing okay?” he asked, his hand moving towards her stomach before stalling out and dropping back to his side.

Willow melted. He’d asked about the…wait. “Bits?”

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone yet!” Buffy elbowed Spike in the side. “Turns out I’m having twins,” she told Willow sheepishly. “You up for being auntie to two little somethings?”

Willow grabbed her friend and hugged her. “Oh my god! Yes, of course! I’m still going to read them totally inappropriate feminist books and make sure they know they can grow up to do anything they want.” Spike was looking at them with amusement. Willow smiled at him. “I’ve decided Buffy’s having a girl, well, girls.”

He looked misty-eyed. “They’ll be a pair or right firecrackers, won’t they?” he said softly and Buffy turned an adoring gaze on him.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Better get Cinderella here home.” The night was starting to get chilly.

“Yes ma’am!” He took Buffy’s arm. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Is it silly that I want oatmeal again?”

“Not at all, mostly because I can actually make that.” Spike escorted Buffy to his car and helped her in. Buffy waved at Willow as they drove off.

Willow shook her head and walked back into the diner.  She didn’t know about this guy, but she had the feeling her opinion wasn’t going to matter. They were already head over heels, even if neither of them realized it yet.

The cook set a plate on the pass through. “Order up!”


	5. Pickles and Ice Cream

No one sings like you anymore

                -Soundgarden, “Black Hole Sun”

****

“I think we might need two different pizzas.” Buffy ran a hand through her hair. She’d worked the Saturday morning rush at the diner and had been beat by the end of it. The smell of eggs had never seemed more disgusting.

Spike and she had been lazing around on the futon and watching old Westerns on TV. He was sprawled at one end and she was sitting with her feet against his leg so whenever he said something that really irked her she could express her displeasure by poking him with her toes. Though the last time he’d grabbed her foot and tickled her until she’d nearly peed her pants. Which admittedly didn’t take a whole lot of effort with the twins already pushing on things.

Buffy was almost certain she could feel them moving, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure yet. The little fluttering could be her babies or maybe just her tummy rumbling.  Sooner or later there’d be no doubt. She was beginning to get worried about three months from now. That third trimester, with two babies, sounded really frightening. She had a ton of questions about that and a lot of other things to ask the doctor about on Monday. She didn’t work and Spike had found a decently priced clinic and made an appointment for her.

Right now, however, she just wanted to worry about arguing with her roommate about the gross pizza he wanted.

“They’re little oily fish. It’s yummy. When I was your age I used to have kippers for breakfast.” Spike drummed his fingers against his thigh.

“But you’re probably like a million and two years old. Just because you like yucky fish doesn’t mean I want them anywhere near my cheesy Hawaiian goodness.”

Spike looked heavenward.

“How old are you anyway?” she asked.

“Been around a bit.”

She crossed her arms and poked him with all ten toes. “Nice try.”

“I was turned in 1880,” he mumbled. “I was 26 then. Are you happy now?”

“Damn, you really are ancient. And that fits my theory that only weird old people want anchovies on their pizza.”

“Oh, like warm pineapple is the height of fine dining!”

Buffy glared.

“Fine, we’ll get two pizzas,” Spike muttered.  He got up and went to the kitchen to call the delivery place. Buffy kept an eye on him to make sure he ordered both pizzas as promised. Pulling a beer out of the fridge after placing their order, he sat at the table to drink it. Unable to help herself, Buffy got up and sat in the other chair at the kitchen table. She’d thought she’d gotten used to being on her own, since Riley’s desertion, but a few days with Spike and she’d started to get very bored very quickly without him.

“What’cha doing?” she asked, watching as he hunched over part of that morning’s paper.

“Crossword. It’s what boring old sticks-in-the-mud like me do for fun.”

“I was studying for my GED before this.” She waved her hand over her stomach. “Hit me with one.”

“What’s a four letter word for an ill-mannered annoying young person?” He tapped his pen against his lower lip.

“Brat…” she trailed off. “Hey! That’s so not one of the words!”

“You don’t know that.” He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“Give me one for reals.”

Twenty-minutes later they’d filled in about half the puzzle when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Spike popped up and grabbed a twenty from his back pocket, a back pocket she was absolutely not staring at as he walked to the door.

It wasn’t the pizza, but the snively little rat-faced guy that came around once a month to collect rent. Buffy hated him with a passion. He always looked her up and down like she was a piece of meat. At least this time he was looking at Spike and didn’t seem to notice her at all.

Spike’s nostrils flared. “You here for the rent?” he snapped.

“Yes, yes. Four-hundred and fifty dollars. Though I should tell you that you need to inform management that you’ve moved in. We’re not strictly against vamps taking over apartments, of course, but we like to know.” The guy nervously twirled the pen in his hand.

Buffy swallowed. This guy knew Spike was a vampire.

Spike growled, sounding like an animal. Buffy stood up abruptly, her chair screeching across the floor.

Snively looked past Spike with surprise on his face. “She’s not dead?” he squeaked.

There was a roar from Spike that made panic bloom in her chest. He grabbed Snively by the throat and pinned him to the wall beside the door. Only…Snively had yellow eyes and a mouth full of fangs. What the hell was going on? Slowly, Spike’s own fangs and ridges emerged.

“Who owns this building?” Spike asked, the words lisped around a mouthful of sharp teeth. “Who?” He thundered when he didn’t immediately get an answer.

“Mr. Trick!” Snively howled.

Spike looked surprised. “Really? I wondered what happened to that bloke. Not planning on picking a fight with him.” He dropped Snively, but bent over to pick up the clipboard that’d been in other vampire’s hands. “See if he recognizes the name William the Bloody.”

Snively shrank back. “You’re the Slayer of Slayers?” he hissed.

“You tell Mr. Trick and every other bleeding demon you know that this flat and this girl,” Spike jabbed a claw in Buffy’s direction. “Are under my protection.” Spike skimmed down the list. “And just like I thought. Rent on this hellhole is only $375. I don’t want to hear about you gouging her, for anything, ever again. Understood?”

Snively nodded, took his clipboard and the rent cash, and fled. Spike slammed the door closed.

Buffy stared at the creature in front of her. He took a step towards her and she quickly backed away. With a sigh, he shook off the demon features.

“Did I scare you, luv?” he asked.

“I don’t…is this building owned by a vampire?”

“Yeah, and a nasty one at that. Don’t worry, he shouldn’t bother us.”

“I need to pee,” she said lamely and fled to the bathroom. Buffy washed her face and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. That’d been terrifying, but Spike had been protecting her. He was still the same guy she’d just been doing a crossword with. It’d just reminded her that she didn’t really know him, for all the fact she was sleeping next to him at night. Not that he’d ever been other than a gentleman about that arrangement, though at some point each night he’d reach over and slip the fingers of one hand between her and the mattress. Like he couldn’t really rest without that connection.

He was so confusing.

It wasn’t much later when there was a knock at the bathroom door. “Buffy, pizza’s here. Do you want me to leave so you can eat?”

“No, it’s okay.” She opened the door. Spike looked like a bit of a wreck. His hair was sticking up as if he’d been running his hands through it, his shirt was untucked, and for some reason he was missing a sock. He must have really wigged out over her locking herself in the bathroom. He backed up quickly as she walked out and she frowned. “Spike, I’m fine. I just needed a little time to think. Let’s eat, alright? Maybe finish the puzzle?”

He nodded and flipped open the boxes, and oh my god, what was that delicious aroma? She ignored the Hawaiian pizza and grabbed a slice of the other and jammed it into her mouth. It was good, salty and oily and perfect.

“Uh, that’s the anchovy one,” Spike said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yup.” Finishing the first slice she grabbed another.

“Did you get old in the bathroom?” he teased with a tentative smile.

“I take that all back. Cool people that look good like anchovy pizza.”

Spike beamed as he grabbed a slice. “Think I’m good looking, do you?”

“Only because you like delicious pizza.” Buffy hoped he couldn’t tell how mortified she was. That’d just kind of slipped out. Spike absolutely didn’t need any ego stroking in the looks department.

Not that she didn’t want to stroke…

Okay, the pregnancy hormones were getting out of hand. “How about you read me the next clue?”

Spike sat down with his slice and pulled the crossword puzzle out from under the pizza boxes.  

“What’s a ten-letter word, starts with an ‘a’, that means eye-catching?”

****

The door to the clinic had a little bell over it that rung as Spike walked in out of the Monday afternoon sun with Buffy, twisting the Gem of Amara nervously around his finger. Though most likely the clinic wasn’t a hotbed of demon activity where someone was going to recognize him or the ring. Buffy checked in at the desk while he found them seats in the small waiting room. There were several other couples waiting, the women at various stages of pregnancy. Almost in unison the men turned angry glares on him, as if he was going to try seducing their partners away from him right then and there. Not that more than one appreciative set of female eyes hadn’t landed on him. When Buffy, clearly pregnant, sat down next to him and patted his knee, both kinds of gazes disappeared.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, at a loss for anything else to say. Spike wanted to kiss her, and not a quick peck. One that would let her know how he felt and shout to everyone in the room that they were together. Only they weren’t, not really. With a sigh, he settled for letting his arm, which was on the back of the seat behind her, slide forward a smidgeon so he could put his hand on her shoulder.

Buffy’s eyes went to the low table and with a happy squeal her hand shot out to snag one of the myriad of magazines with a smiling baby or kid on the cover that were lying strewn about. Spike made a mental note to buy her some the next time they were at the store. Eagerly, she flipped through the pages, finally stopping to stare at one. Spike glanced at what had caught her attention. It was an ad for car insurance but what Buffy must be staring at were the harried man and woman with two identical young children in a side-by-side stroller.

“That’s going to be us, eh?” he said, jerking his chin towards to page.

Buffy blinked at him, then she blushed and dropped her eyes to the ad again. “Yeah. I guess so.” Her hand ran over the curve of her belly. “What do you think of the stroller? They make one where it’s one behind the other instead of side by side like that.”

Spike pulled his eyebrows together as he considered the logistics. “Both sound like bloody pains in the asses. Have a regular one for one of the nippers along with diapers and such and then you or I can be carrying the other little bugger. Get one of them holders, yeah?”

“Babies get heavier as they get older,” Buffy said with a laugh.

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“I didn’t say that.” She glanced at him from under her lashes and he smirked. It was good to know the girl wasn’t completely blind.

“Buffy Summers?” A nurse in blue scrubs called.

Buffy got up and Spike caught her hand.

“Can I?” he asked gruffly.

“Of course.” She let him put her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I’m kind of scared,” Buffy whispered.

“You’re amazing, you’ll be just fine,” he said and she gave him a grateful smile.

A lot of things seemed to happen in very quick succession. Buffy was weighed, measured, her vitals taken, she was sent to pee in a cup, and the nurse took a quick health history. Finally, she had Buffy lay back on the paper-covered exam table and measured her abdomen. Spike did his best not to stare at her skin. She looked so vulnerable like that. His demon was fretting over the fact that he was just sitting there and letting a stranger touch her. It prowled right below the surface, making Spike jumpy.

The nurse frowned at the tape measure and repeated the process. “Are you sure you’re nineteen weeks?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, I’m actually really sure,” Buffy sighed. “But I think I’m having twins.”

The nurse pursed her lips. “Well, let’s have a listen, shall we?” She grabbed an ultrasound device from the counter and Buffy’s hand snaked out to grab his. Spike rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. Buffy’s heartrate had kicked up. She was worried.

 _Help her!_ The demon was nearly frantic.  

“They’re just fine,” he said, leaning close to her ear. He’d been hearing those little heartbeats since almost the first moment he’d met her. Not once had they been anything but steady. The nurse plopped gel on Buffy’s belly, making her squirm, and then the faint pulses he’d been hearing were amplified loudly into the room.

Buffy’s eyes went wide and her fingers convulsed around his as she heard proof of their little lives for the first time. He smiled at her.

“Those are my babies.” Her voice shook.

“They sure are.” The nurse removed the probe and wiped off the gel before pulling Buffy’s shirt back down. “And like you said, two. I’m going to let Dr. Burkle know and she’ll be in to talk to you shortly. We’ll want to get a sonogram today to make sure everything is going well, so we’ll prep you for that when she’s done.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. Her eyes dropped closed when the nurse left, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Can you hear them?” she finally asked. “Sort of like that, but all the time?”

“Yeah, it's a comfort. Lets me know they’re doing alright in there.”

Buffy opened her eyes and looked at him oddly. She appeared to be about to say something when a slim woman in a lab coat burst into the room.

“Hello all, I’m Doctor Burkle, but please call me Fred.” She shook first Buffy’s hand and then his before pulling up a stool. Fred ran over an awful lot of information very quickly. Enough to make his head spin. Even the demon gave up and quieted down. Mostly he watched Buffy, her face serious, as she attempted to absorb everything. If he hadn’t been paying such close attention he would have missed the look of shame that clouded her features for a second before quickly dissipating.

“Wait, Doc,” Spike broke into Fred’s monologue. “Go back a sec, what were you just talking about?”

Fred scrunched her eyebrows together. “Oh, pica, where sometimes a pregnant mom eats stuff that isn’t really food.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at Buffy, who was studying her toes. “Go on then, share with the class,” he said gently.

Buffy huffed. “Okay, fine. There’s chalk, at work…and a couple of times I took it home and ate it like candy.” The last came out in a jumbled rush. “It didn’t even taste good.”

“Calcium,” Fred said immediately. “Those babies want calcium. So more milk, green leafy vegetables, and Daddy-“

It took Spike a second to realize Fred was speaking to him. Buffy’s hand was tense in his, but all he felt was relief. There was no giant arrow pointing at him that said ‘not the father’ like he sometimes felt there was. He nodded. “Yes?” Buffy visibly relaxed.

“Even ice cream counts. If Buffy wants Oreo ice cream with salt and vinegar potato chips at one in the morning, the smart thing to do is listen to her.” Fred winked conspiratorially.

“I already know that part,” he said with a chuckle.

There were several more minutes of information overload and then Fred had Buffy standing up and going to change into some kind of gown for the ultrasound.

Spike stood outside the room and tried to process everything. There was a whole lot of stuff he’d never had to think about before.

Fred walked back by. “You doing alright there, Daddy?”

“Didn’t know how much I didn’t bloody know before today,” he said ruefully.

“Hang on a moment.” She disappeared into an office and came out a moment later with a book in her hands. “People are always giving me copies of this for some reason, so I have extras. Here you go!” She pushed the thick paperback into his hands. _What to Expect When You’re Expecting._

“Thank you.” Spike felt a little choked. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a gift. Buffy walked out from the changing room looking less than thrilled in her jeans and front-opening gown. She raised an eyebrow at the book he was holding but didn’t say anything. Fred led them to the sonogram area and left them with the tech and a promise to be back soon. The gown was pushed well to the side and there was another round of gel that Buffy made a face at.

“And here we go,” the tech, a woman with a nice smile and grey hair, said as she put the probe on Buffy’s abdomen. It took Spike a minute to make heads or tails of the image on the screen, but then something moved and he realized it was a leg. After that he could pick out the entire little being.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed. “That’s…that’s…”

Buffy’s hand seized his again. He looked at her and there were silent tears cascading down her cheeks.

The tech pointed out the baby’s head, arms, and backbone, then adjusted the probe and a second little person became visible. “And there’s the other. I’m just going to do some measurements here.” Rapidly, she started tapping buttons and moving the probe around.

Spike knew his mouth was hanging open. He was completely dumbstruck. So fragile. Those little lives could be snuffed out in an instant. And already they were so precious. His treasures.

“Can you see the ear, here?” The tech pointed to the screen and both Buffy and he nodded. “It’s right around now they’ll start to be able to hear: Mom’s heartbeat, her voice, and your voice too, Dad.”

Fred came back in then, talked to the tech, and did a few more passes with the sonogram probe. “Do you want to know your babies’ genders?” she asked.

Spike darted a glance at Buffy.

“I think so,” Buffy said. “It’d make shopping easier.”

“Can pick names too, can’t call ‘em ‘Thing One’ and ‘Thing Two’ forever.” Spike chuckled.

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Seriously? You’ve been calling them that?”

“Maybe?” he hedged.

Fred laughed. “Well, I hope you two have a couple of pretty names picked out, because, while I can’t guarantee a hundred-percent accuracy, I’m pretty darned sure both things here are little girls.”

“Oh,” Buffy sounded surprised. “Willow was right.”

Spike forgot to breathe.

Printouts of the sonogram pictures were made and handed to Spike while Buffy was changing. He tucked them in the front of the book. After a follow up appointment was scheduled for next month, Spike walked behind Buffy out to where the DeSoto was parked.

Seagulls were cawing overhead and the whole world looked different. Or maybe it was just him. He helped Buffy into the car and made it as far as opening the driver’s side door before the weight of everything hit him. He nearly collapsed into the car and then just sat there staring at his hands on the steering wheel.

He’d stopped dreaming of a family when he’d died.

“Spike?” Buffy said quietly. “I’d understand if-” She yelped as he reached over and pulled her so she was sitting on his lap. He spread the fingers of one hand over her belly.

“Going to keep you safe, and well, and happy. All my girls.” His voice broke as tears spilled from his eyes.

Buffy put her arms around him and patted his back, making hushing noises. Her scent, warm and inviting, washed over him.

“I always thought…when I was alive…I took for granted I’d have little ones, a family. Then it all went away in an instant. Gone. I was upset and angry when I chose to be what I am. I had no idea what I was giving up. I couldn’t even grieve it, because the one that turned me? She didn’t understand. So, I put it away, that wish, buried it so deep for more than century that I thought it didn’t exist anymore. But it does, it’s still there.” He bowed his head to her shoulder and sobbed. Damn it. He felt like he was a fledge again, realizing that he’d never come home and find a warm fire and hearty meal waiting on him, or a doting wife that loved only him and would hand him his child to dandle on his knee. Dru had laughed and laughed at him.

Buffy continued to soothe him, her hand gentle on his back.

His finger shook against her stomach. “The lady, the tech, she said they can hear now, right?” His girls would know his voice, when they were born. His. Not the wanker who was their biological father. His.

“Yeah,” Buffy replied. She put a hand on the side of his face.

He swallowed the end of his tears and softly petted the swell of Buffy’s belly. “ _Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder…_ ”

When he finished the lullaby, he looked at Buffy’s face and now she was crying, which set him off again. Christ. You’d think he was the one that was pregnant. Her arms went around his neck and she smushed her face against his throat as he wrapped her in a fierce hug. They clung to each other for he didn’t know how long. Two lost people trying to figure out how to make it through life.

Spike wanted to kiss her again. Badly. He felt like he was rolling down a hill, and while he wasn’t to the bottom of it, he knew that the inevitable end would be him loving the girl in his arms more than his own existence. Hell, he might already be at the bottom and his head just hadn’t finished spinning yet. He didn’t know how she felt about him at all. No clue, but he knew what he wished for.

He didn’t dare even name it.

“You want to go for ice cream?” he asked hoarsely.

“Are you going to make fun of me for getting weird flavors?”

“Probably.”

Buffy wiped the wetness from her cheeks and retreated to the passenger side. “At least I know I need to come up with some snappy comebacks.”

“Maybe they’ll have pickles.” He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

She frowned, opened her mouth like she was going to protest, and then sighed in obvious defeat. “Do you think so?”


	6. Ketchup

Won't you come and save me

            -Alice in Chains, “Man In The Box”

****

Buffy smiled as she set the pancake special in front of the customer. It was a mostly genuine smile. Kind of. Buffy really didn’t like the guy. He could afford to eat somewhere much better than a greasy spoon, but he’d come in drunk one night and, after finding out she was pregnant, he’d started coming back regularly. He always sat in her section. He was middle-aged, balding, and constantly wore a grey London-Fog raincoat. He’d asked more than one uncomfortable question about when she was due, or if she’d had to buy a bigger bra yet. The guy was a real creepazoid.

Buffy retreated behind the counter to where Willow was waiting to pounce.

“So how are things with Mr. He’s-Just-My-Roomate?” Willow asked.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine.” It’d been two weeks since Spike had scooped her up and carried her home. Two weeks of good food and better company.

“Y’know, have you tried asking him?” Willow eyed the glass ketchup bottle she was holding and trying to convince to pour into another one like it might attack her. Condensing ketchup bottles was no one’s favorite task.

“Asking him what?” Buffy said, though she knew what Willow was getting at.

“Asking him if he likes you in a more than roommate way.” Willow stuck her tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“Can we not do this again?”

Willow grinned. “Nope, we’re going to keep doing this until you say something to him about the fact that you want to jump his bones.”

“You’re impossible.” Buffy ran her hands over her belly. “You may not have noticed, but I’m five months pregnant with twins. I’m not going to get any less pregnant. He may be weirdly co-dependent about taking care of me and the girls, but that doesn’t mean he wants to get it on with me. For all I know he’s out there banging some ho-bag in the back of a club right now.” Buffy frowned. It hurt to think of Spike trolling for a quick lay. “I mean, he’s cute, funny, smart, has that accent…”

Willow looked up from the ketchup. “Are you trying to sell him to me? Because unless he’s cleverly hiding a vagina in those tight jeans of his…actually, even if he is, he’s way too butch for me. So still a no go.”

“You and your earth mother types,” Buffy said while silently willing the ketchup to let go and move to the other bottle. The suspense was starting to kill her.

“You know it. Hey! I have an idea.”

“Tap the end of the bottle?”

Willow wrinkled her nose. “No, and the last time I did that I ended up wearing ketchup. I mean with Spike. Why don’t you just kiss him?”

“What good is that going to do?”

“Lots of things.” Willow’s free hand strayed towards the upturned bottle, then dropped back to the counter. “You’d find out pretty quickly if there’s any sparkage. And if it’s all boring and tapioca then you’ll know and you won’t be left wondering.”

Buffy bit her lip. Somehow she couldn’t imagine kissing Spike as being boring. Just thinking about pressing her lips to his made her feel all tingly. One of the twins chose that minute to get a good kick in, reminding her that she wasn’t making decisions just for herself.

“You look like you need more convincing,” Willow said.

“What if it makes it all weird?”

“Weirder than living with some random guy you bumped into on the way home from work? The worst that’s going to happen is that he tells you he’s not ready for any of that stuff, and again, you’re done with the wondering.”

Buffy tapped a knife against the counter. Willow had a point. She slept next to Spike. A week ago he’d held her during the emotional whirlwind that’d followed her seeing and hearing her babies for the first time.  “And what’s the best that could happen?”

“You get to have a bunch of really rowdy sex all over your apartment while he declares his undying love.” Willow smiled and Buffy felt herself blush. It did sound simple, and then she’d know. Either he was off limits and she could tell her hormones to take a hike, or he wasn’t and wouldn’t that be nice? At least she’d know what his lips felt like on hers, and what he tasted like. Her whole body shuddered.

“You have the best ideas, Willow.”

“Of course I do, I’m an awesome lesbian waitress.” Willow gave a little cry of triumph as the ketchup in the upside-down bottle finally gave into gravity and started pouring into the one Willow was trying to fill. The sight made Buffy sigh in relief. Ketchup and roommate issues settled, she grabbed a clean rag and set about wiping down the counter.  How long was that weirdo in the corner going to take to finish his pancakes, anyway?

****

Buffy picked up an empty coffee cup and a fifty-cent tip. The woman who’d sat here nursing the cup was probably homeless and just trying to get out of the cold and damp for a few hours, which made the tip generous, but it wasn’t enough to buy anything two babies were going to need. She knew Spike would help out, but she wanted to be able to take care of her daughters herself. Why did everything have to be so expensive?

Shying away from the astronomical cost of diapers, her mind returned to the same thing she’d been mulling over ever since Willow had mentioned it: kissing Spike. She’d waffled on the issue at least three million times already. Willow kept laughing at her and saying she could smell the smoke from Buffy thinking so hard.

“Your knight dressed in the skin of a defenseless animal should be here soon,” Willow called out, pointing at the clock. “You guys have any plans?”

“Just home. I think he’s going to try making spaghetti,” Buffy said, knowing she was grinning. “And he might rub my feet while we watch TV. He’s very good at that.” She giggled.

Willow snorted. “I swear, you turn into such a girl every time you mention him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Willow pitched her voice higher: “Oh, Spike, he’s so wonderful and strong and handsome. Did I mention handsome?” She fanned herself.

“I’m not that bad.” Buffy blushed, because she kind of was.

“Right,” Willow said in her normal voice. “Do you remember when I said he was kind of lean and you spent thirty minutes describing his bone and muscle structure? You’d think he was the second coming. I’m tempted to throw him off the closest pier just to see if he can actually walk on water.”

“Seriously, not that bad,” Buffy reiterated.

“Speak of the devil.” Willow gestured with her chin towards the front of the diner where Spike had just pulled his car up outside. The rain was more cats-and-dogs than the usual Seattle drizzle, meaning fewer people were out and Spike had been able to park like a normal person for once. He jumped out, flipping the collar of his coat up against the downpour.

Buffy pulled the bill for the balding creep off her pad and quickly went and placed it beside his empty plate. “Have a good night, sir,” she said politely. Willow could have whatever tip he left, it wasn’t going to be enough to make it worth the wait.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled.

Forcing a smile, she picked up the dirty plate and walked past him towards the kitchen. A startled cry left her lips as the man’s hand landed right on her ass, smacking her hard enough that she stumbled and dropped the dish in her hands. As it hit the tile and shattered, Spike barreled past her. She spun in time to see him slam the man’s head down onto the chipped tabletop, pinning him there with almost no effort.

Buffy’s heart went to her throat. Spike would kill the guy and, to her horror, she found a tiny part of her didn’t care all that much. This wasn’t the first time some jerk had manhandled her at work, but it was the first time someone else had stood up for her.

Spike bent down and got right in the guy’s face. “You like touching woman when they don’t want you to?” he snarled.

The man’s eyes were wide. Spike’s eyes swirled yellow and his fangs descended. The man went from looking scared to downright terrified. There was a dripping noise and Buffy realized the creep had peed himself in fear.

“This girl is mine. I should take your worthless eyes out for even daring to bloody look at her.” Spike had shifted so his thumb was right beside the man’s eye, which was wildly rolling.

The entire diner had gone silent. Buffy glanced around. Willow had a shocked expression, but Buffy was certain Willow couldn’t see Spike’s face from where she was standing, so at least she didn’t have to explain that part to her friend. In the kitchen, the cook was on the phone, but this wasn’t the kind of place where you called the cops, so he had to be talking the owner. There went her job. She undid her apron and let it fall to the floor.

She knew she should be scared of Spike, or maybe mad, but at the moment all she felt was grateful. The desire to touch him, taste him, was stronger than ever. Buffy had the feeling she was going to get a lecture from Willow about being a very bad feminist, but first she needed to get her and Spike out of this place.

Reaching out, she gently touched Spike’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it.”

“He hurt you,” Spike growled, pushing the man’s head even harder against the table.

“I’m fine,” she said, a calm settling over her. “But we should go.”

“If I ever see you again,” Spike hissed to the man. “Your life is mine.” The guy frantically nodded. Spike straightened and his vampire face disappeared, though he still looked deadly serious. Buffy gasped as he swept her off her feet and into his arms. “You don’t work here anymore,” he told her. “I found somewhere better.”

Buffy looked up at him. He kept rescuing her. She wrapped an arm around his neck. One of these days it would be her turn to help him. As he strode from the diner applause followed them. She leaned her head against his shoulder and smiled. Oh yeah, she was so going to kiss him.

****

His fingers wouldn’t relax. Spike knew he was nearly crushing the DeSoto’s steering wheel, but he couldn’t stop. Some stupid bloody wanker had touched what was his. He felt his face begin to shift and forced it back. He was so buggering angry.

Buffy was staring owlishly at him. She hadn’t said a word since they’d got in the car.

“Out with it,” he said tersely.

“Spike.” Her hand went to his shoulder. She sighed. “I’m just trying to get my head around the fact that I’m now unemployed and I’m trying to figure out whether I should be more freaked out than I am over you going all scary-faced on that guy.”

Fuck. He’d scared her. “I’d never hurt you, or the girls. Never, Buffy.” He didn’t even dare glance at her face. Please let her believe him. She had to know, had to have some inkling that she and her children had become the linchpin of his entire life.

Her hand squeezed his shoulder.  “I know. That doesn’t mean it didn’t worry me.” She paused. “Is there really another job? I’m not saying you can’t look after us, but I’d just feel better if I wasn’t entirely leaning on someone else.”

Spike refrained from mentioning that her last job had resulted in her going hungry. He understood pride, and he got that there’d yet to be a single man in her life that’d stuck around.  She had a lot of baggage he was going to have to convince her to chuck out. “Yeah, I’m taking you there now. It’s owned by a friend of mine. The place is a demon dive, but it’s got more than one spell on it to keep the occupants from either doing what that bloke did to you or what I did to him.”

“Spell? Like magic spell?” Buffy looked so adorably confused.

“It’s not like the owner’s going to pull a rabbit out of a hat, luv. The real stuff’s a bit different.”

“Oh.” She appeared to be thinking very hard. Spike edged his way through traffic and turned onto a side street down by Pike’s Place. He parked and ran around to help Buffy out. “I forgot my coat,” Buffy murmured. Spike swept his duster from his shoulders and wrapped it around her, cursing his lack of body heat.

He took her hand and led her to an unmarked door, opened it, and gestured for her to enter. Looking skeptical, Buffy walked past him and gasped. The bright yellow neon of the bar’s sign, that spelled out _The Sun Thief_ in surprisingly elegant script, hung over the entrance to the bar proper. The place was clean and orderly. There was a well-stocked bar to one side, booths and tables scattered throughout the rest, and set into the wall was the stage the place was famous for. “There’s drinks, of course, but also a full menu, though it caters to a slightly different crowd than you’re used to.” Spike paused. He’d meant to have a talk with her first about his world, all the different kinds of demons, not do it sink or swim style like this. “There’s even a few rooms for rent downstairs, though anyone staying can’t have company, if you know what I mean.”

Buffy nodded absently but hugged his coat tighter around her.

There were a few patrons scattered about, but it was a slow night, and most of those Spike saw could pass for human.

“Spike!” cried a familiar voice. “Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Lorne came out from behind the bar to clap him on the shoulder. “I thought I might not see you again after you stopped in the other night. You were terribly tore up, tea-biscuit.”

Spike darted a glance to Buffy, who was staring open mouthed at the green-skinned and red-horned Lorne. The powder blue suit and pink ruffled shirt he was in, while typical Lorne, also screamed that he was anything but normal.

“Buffy.” Spike put a hand on her back. “This is Lorne, the mate I told you about. And Lorne, this here is Buffy. I know you’re looking for employees, and she’s looking for a job. Figured it was a match made in heaven.”

Lorne stuck his hand out and Buffy politely shook it. Spike could hear her heart tripping along, but her nervousness didn’t show on her face.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Buffy said. “Um, I know how to waitress and mix drinks, but I have to be paid under the table since I don’t have an ID or social security number. And.” She let the duster fall open. “I’m going to need some maternity leave sooner or later.  Also, and I apologize, I don’t really like to work much past 10 pm or so. That’s when I turn into even more of a pumpkin than I already am.”

“Not a problem. It’s usually day shifts I have the most issues with anyway.” Lorne was studying Buffy intently. “I should have known,” he said, giving Spike a sideways glance before focusing back in on Buffy. “Okay, babycakes, you just need to audition.”

“Audition?” Buffy took a step back.

Spike patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Lorne’s an empath. He can read you and see a bit of your future if you sing for him.”

“Sing?” Buffy sounded almost panicked. “I can’t sing!”

“Sure you can,” Spike soothed. “You do it for the girls all the time. That’s all he needs, not something to bring down the house on bleeding Broadway.”

Buffy took a deep breath, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. There was his brave girl. He took a step to the side as she wrapped both her arms over the swell of her belly. “ _Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool…_ ”

When she was finished, Lorne looked dumb struck. Finally, he stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “Jobs all yours, sweets, you’ll start in two days, come in at 10 am and ask for Tara. Pay’s ten bucks an hour plus tips. Maternity leave won’t be a problem. Not much else for benefits besides for the most part I probably know a guy that knows a guy for anything you might need.”

“Really?” Buffy was beaming. “Just like that? Did you see anything about my future?”

“Yes, just like that. You’re going to fit in wonderfully here. And while I was mostly focusing on the job part, I did see two little blonde girls in pigtails.” He winked at her.

Buffy closed her eyes and rested her hands on her stomach with a beatific smile. “Thank you…Boss.”

“I like the sound of that.” Lorne nodded at her, but when she turned her back to study a print done in the local Salish tradition, he frowned and grabbed Spike’s elbow. “What’s going on here?” Lorne asked, his voice too low for Buffy to hear.

“What do you mean?” Spike said as his stomach tightened with worry. “Did you see something happen?” His hands fisted as he fought the urge to grab and shake the other demon.

Lorne sighed. “I saw two cute as can be little girls opening their presents on Christmas morning happy as clams.” Lorne rubbed his temples. “It’s just, Buffy…has a lot of potential, and you’re not exactly known for your mercy.”

Spike fought his fangs. “She’s my girl. I take care of her. You tell everyone you know, and I’ve already let Mr. Trick’s cronies in on this tidbit, no one touches her, and no one touches where she lives. Understood?”

Lorne nodded, his face unreadable. “I got it, watercress, I got it. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Spike growled and Lorne held up his hands.

“Guess we’ll be seeing you around these parts more often?” Lorne said louder and Buffy turned back around.

“Keep one cold for me,” Spike replied. He put his arm around Buffy and led her back to the car.

They drove home in silence. Spike parked the DeSoto in the apartment building’s tiny underground garage next to Buffy’s defunct purple Ford Taurus. He trailed after her as they walked up the stairs. Once inside the apartment she hung up his duster and turned to face him, her arms crossed. Spike braced himself for her to yell at him or play twenty questions about Lorne and the bar. Instead, she stared at him well past the point of comfort, then turned on her heel and went to the bathroom. The shower started running.

Twenty minutes later she emerged in her pink robe, the belt cinched tight. She stared at him again. Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he started thinking that Buffy was working herself up to something. Maybe she was going to ask him to leave or, worse yet, to sleep somewhere other than beside her.

His demon was starting to dig its claws into his brain, demanding he do anything except just stand there.

Spike sauntered over to Buffy and pushed into her personal space. “What’s wrong, pet? You haven’t said three words since we got home.”

“I know.” Buffy gulped. She placed her hands on his chest and stared at her fingers. “It’s something Willow said.”

“What did Red say that has you all tied up in knots?”

Her eyes rose to his face. “She gave me some advice.”

Spike wanted to strangle Willow. “About what?” He tried not to sound whiney, but knew he was probably failing. If Willow had told Buffy to ditch him, the redhead was so much dead meat.

“Um…” The pink tip of Buffy’s tongue darted out, distracting him. She puffed out another breath. “Oh, fudge, Buffy, just do it,” she murmured. Spike waited to be told to pack his bags. He’d lost the girl even though he’d never really had her. He-

Oh, bloody hell, she was kissing him.


	7. Reuben

Come as you are, as you were  
As I want you to be  
As a friend, as a friend  
As an known enemy

            -Nirvana, “Come As You Are”

 

****

Spike’s lips were soft, was Buffy’s first thought as her mouth met his. Followed rapidly by: and kind of cold, and boy he tastes delicious. And finally: he’s not kissing me back. Drat. She started to pull away, but Spike whimpered deep in his throat and his arm snaked around her neck. He pulled her against him and his mouth devoured hers. His tongue pushed its way past the seam of her lips and she eagerly sucked on it. Spike moaned.

Buffy was fast losing the battle with her hormones. Her hands went to his shoulders and pushed him back against the wall with a thump. He growled softly, a faint echo of the animalistic noises she’d heard him make before and that’d scared her so badly. Hearing it now drove her wild. Her tongue was in his mouth and she familiarized herself with every bit of it she could reach. He tasted so good.

One of his hands was in her hair and the other had somehow snuck in the front of her robe. He caressed the bare curve of her hip and slid his palm down to cup her backside, using the handful to yank her tighter against him.

And oh my freaking…that was…

Spike’s hard-on was pushing insistently against her hip. She found his belt buckle and began to undo it, desperate for him to be inside her.

Abruptly, unyielding hands were on her shoulders as he pushed her away from him. He stumbled over to the futon and sat down heavily on the edge. He was panting and had his head in his hands, his fingertips digging into his hair.

She didn’t know what to do. Riley’s words, about no man wanting a girl that was aggressive in the bedroom, came back to haunt her. How many times had he told her that a guy didn’t want a girl to push him around in bed, to take the lead, or be demanding. Buffy had tried her best with Riley, though it could be difficult. When she got carried away she simply started taking what she wanted.

Part of her had always thought maybe it was just Riley who didn’t like it and that other men wouldn’t mind so much. The proof about how wrong she’d been was sitting across the room from her. What had she been thinking? She knew Spike had been around a long time. He probably expected women to giggle and fall on fainting couches, not maul him.

She sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, her back to Spike, and huffed at how far out her belly was already sticking. She placed a hand on it. God, she was huge and she was only halfway there. By the end she was barely going to be able to walk and would look like a circus side show act. Shame burned in her chest. What had she been thinking? Coming onto the most attractive man she’d ever met like a ton of bricks when she looked like this? Tears threatened. God damn Riley. He should be here, taking care of her, loving her. Why couldn’t he have been the kind of man that…that…

“Buffy?” Spike was kneeling beside her. His hair was curly and out of place and his eyes were red rimmed. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe she should just apologize for being an idiot.

His fingers covered hers where they rested on her abdomen. His gaze darted between her face and the floor several times. He took a deep breath, let it out, and then took another one. She watched him in growing confusion and alarm.

“Just say whatever it is you want to say. I can guarantee I’ve heard worse,” she finally bit out.

“Cart horse!” he blurted.

“What?”

“Cart horse!” he said again, looking right into her eyes.

“What?”

“Oh, bloody hell!” The hand not on hers raked through his hair again, sending it into further disarray. “I’m trying to not put the cart before the horse,” he grated out slowly. She scrunched up her nose, still not understanding. His eyelids dropped closed for a moment. “Buffy…” He stood and brought her along with him. His hand cupped her face. “Buffy, I want to be with you, more than anything.”

“Then why did you…?” She couldn’t voice his rejection. She was so confused.

“Because I want it to be forever. Want to be your man, yeah? But you barely know me. What if you don’t really like me?”

Not really like him? That seemed impossible. “You live with me. You sleep in my bed.”

‘Which are all bloody confusing things, for me too. Trust me.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “I just want to do everything right by you, and neither of us needs to mix up matters any more than they already are right now.”

Because him holding her didn’t make her more jumbled.

“How about I go ahead and make dinner?” Spike asked softly. “I got stuff for stir-fry with chicken.”

Buffy nodded. It’d been a long, weird day and food sounded good.

Over the next couple of days both she and Spike vainly tried to pretend that nothing had happened. They watched TV and did the crossword. Spike bought her a new coat and put up a set of bookshelves. From the back of his car he unpacked a big box of books, mostly poetry, of all things, and mostly writers she’d never heard of like Guillame Apollinaire and Allen Ginsberg. The first author’s book had been in French, which she’d planned to take in high school but hadn’t gotten the chance to, and the second author’s, a slim volume she’d given up on after the first page. The poem hadn’t made any sense but had left her feeling odd anyway. Many of the books had penciled-in notes in the margins, and they all looked well loved. Spike was right, she didn’t really know him.

It was in the middle of the night that Buffy figured something out, just as Spike gently wiggled his fingers under her. Every guy she’d been with, that she’d believed she’d loved, had also been a desperate attempt to keep herself off the street. Spike had given her that part free of charge. She could get to know him, find out if she just had a crush on his looks or if she liked all of him as much as she suspected she did. Which was a lot.

He was right, a little waiting was probably for the best. Now, if she could just get the taste of him out of her mouth and the feel of him off her skin.

****

It was raining heavily again, which Spike had decided was Seattle’s way of having winter. Buffy didn’t turn down his offer of a ride to her first day of work. Once in front of the building, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek in thanks and darted inside.

Lighting a cig when she was out of sight, he pulled back into traffic. He needed to eat, even if ten in the morning wasn’t prime vampire hunting time, and a spot of violence wouldn’t go amiss, either. The Gem of Amara, sightlessly staring back at him from his finger as he gripped the steering wheel, said that violence wouldn’t be as exciting as usual since he didn’t run the risk of getting banged up. However, he also needed to run to the grocery store, CVS, and maybe Target to get that one cereal Buffy had been craving. It’d be better if he didn’t have a black eye or a limp while doing so.

Spike drove a little ways out of the city, heading to a bar a biker gang had set up shop at. It wasn’t the 70s anymore, but there were still some tough guys who ran in those packs, and he was sure he could find a fight, even before noon on a Tuesday.

He’d limited his hunting to when Buffy worked, and lately he’d been doing quick snatch and grabs. No real stalking. And they’d all been men. After the last time with that girl…he’d felt too odd. With Buffy being out of work the last few days he was getting fairly desperate to feed. Though he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d decided where his next meal was coming from.

All he’d been able to think about since she’d kissed him was how Buffy had tasted, the sweetness of her lips, the warmth of her skin, how perfect her arse had felt in his hand. He hoped she hadn’t realized what a firestorm she’d ignited. He’d even showered twice in one day simply to give himself enough chances to toss off over her. His demon patently didn’t understand why he hadn’t simply obliged the chit and fucked her silly. There was no explaining to it that he wanted her to love him first. It seemed to think if he shagged her well enough of course she’d love them…er, him.  But that was the point, he wanted the real deal from Buffy, not an approximation.

He’d had enough of pouring love into someone who didn’t truly love him back. Bloody Drusilla, it still rankled how happy she’d been that her Sire had been in Sunnydale. Spike told himself over and over she’d gone out to feed the night the Slayer had found and dusted her, but he had the feeling she’d gone looking for Angel, as he now called himself. Souled up idiot.

Spike tossed the butt of yet another cigarette out the window.

Exiting off the highway, he tried to push away thoughts of Buffy’s gasping mewls and demanding hands by repeatedly running through his shopping list. It didn’t really work. He’d been reliving that moment when she’d pushed him back against the wall over and over again, the simple action more erotic to him than her hands on his belt. Want and desire had welled up out of her and made his kitten have claws. Who’d have thought?

He knew he was a time bomb, that there was only so long he’d be able to keep himself from having her. Hopefully, he could win her heart before then. Hell knew he loved the chit more than his own pathetic existence. The twins too. He’d do anything for them.

He pulled the DeSoto in behind the aging bar with moss covered shingles on the roof. The rain had lightened to a misty drizzle. The place was isolated with a thick stand of trees and brush on three sides and a gravel parking lot in front with several dozen big bikes sitting there. It looked like something was going down inside.

Lighting another cigarette—he had to make up for when he abstained around Buffy—he sauntered over to lean on a rusting barrel that sat across from the back door. He didn’t have long to wait. A few moments later the door banged open. A rough-looking man was dragged outside by two others.

Spike smiled. It was his lucky day.

****

Buffy had no idea what to expect when she walked into ‘The Sun Thief’. There was no one sitting at the booths or tables, and only a single girl with dishwater blonde hair standing behind the bar. She was slicing up lemons and limes with a skilled hand.

“Hi,” Buffy said, her fingers tight on the cuffs of her new, very warm, jacket. “I’m supposed to ask for Tara?”

The woman looked up and smiled warmly. “Hi, I’m Tara. You must be Buffy.”

Buffy nodded and relaxed.

Tara set down her knife, wiped her hands off, and offered one to Buffy. “It’s nice to meet you. It usually starts to get busy here around lunch time, so we have a while to start getting you used to things. Anya will be here by 11:30. You can shadow her today and see how we do things.” Tara paused as Buffy hung up her coat. The back of the bar was as clean and orderly as the front and a cheerful whistling was coming from the kitchen. “Uh, just to let you know, Anya can be kind of blunt,” Tara continued. “Sometimes it comes across rude, but she’s not trying to be.”

Buffy shrugged. “I’m pregnant. That seems to give everyone that sees me a free pass to say whatever they want to me at any time. I’m kind of used to it.”

“Am I being rude then if I ask what you’re having?”

“No.” Buffy smiled. “Twins, girls, we haven’t picked out names yet.”

“You and your,” Tara’s eyes darted to the fingers of Buffy’s left hand, “boyfriend must be very happy.”

That stalled Buffy for a moment. Spike wasn’t exactly her boyfriend, was he? “I don’t actually have a boyfriend,” she confessed. “I have a roommate the helps me out. In fact, he got me the job here. It’s kind of complicated. The guy who got me this way ran off pretty much the second I told him I was pregnant.”

“Men,” Tara muttered and Buffy laughed.

“You sound just like my friend Willow.” Buffy looked at Tara, with her long skirt, clogs, and faded Greenpeace t-shirt. Okay, Buffy needed to introduce Tara to Willow. “Who you should totally meet.”

Tara smiled again. “I think I might like that. Now come on and greet our cook, Clem, and don’t be scared, he’s a demon but the really nice kind.”

“Okay.” Buffy shrugged. When in Romania, or however that saying went.

****

Spike popped his knuckles.

The three bikers were all staring sightlessly at the overcast sky. He’d drained two of them and cut the throat of the third, hoping the local police (if they were even called in) wouldn’t be smart enough to figure out there wasn’t enough blood soaking the ground for three people. Spike had found a couple hundred bucks in their pockets, more than enough to pay for the day’s shopping.

It hadn’t really been much of a fight, just enough to take the edge off. It felt good to be full, however, and he sang along with the radio as he started up the DeSoto and headed back towards Seattle.

Safeway, CVS, and Elliot Bay Bookstore all beckoned. He needed to pick up Buffy at six. He wondered if she’d be fine with pancakes for dinner. Oh, and her cereal. There was a sign for Target and he switched lanes to make the exit. It wouldn’t do to forget that or he’d be making another trip out.

****

Buffy had known she and Anya were going to get along the minute she’d met her.

Anya had looked her up and down. “You’re pregnant, which doesn’t matter unless the baby is part demon and actually eating you brain or something.”

“Uh, no, just the regular kind of babies,” Buffy had replied, amused, though it was the ‘doesn’t matter’ part that’s she’d really liked.  

“Good. Are you wearing comfortable shoes?”

Buffy had nodded, and then Anya had proceeded to chatter non-stop about the menu, the patrons, and how to serve various things that Buffy had never heard of before in her life. The only one she’d balked at was the soup with something alive in it, and that was only because the first time she’d tried to grab the bowl the whatever in the bowl had grabbed her back. Anya had disentangled her and showed her how to serve it safely.

By 2 pm Buffy felt like she had learned more about the world than she had in her previous eighteen years. There were a lot of different kinds of demons that ate a lot of different kinds of things.

Lorne picked the exact moment she leaned against the bar for a quick breather to show up. Buffy immediately straightened up and started to mumble an apology.

“No worries, pumpkin, there’s actually someone I want you to meet.” He waved a hand and she followed him towards the far corner of the place.

Sitting alone was dark haired man in glasses. He was eating a regular-looking Reuben sandwich and had a thick book propped up on the table in front of him. His hair was slightly shaggy and he had about a day’s growth of beard, but it made him look like he was trying to appear tough, not that he actually was. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, both of which looked new.

Lorne put a hand on the man’s shoulder and he jumped. “Sorry to bother you,” Lorne said smoothly. “But this is the girl I wanted to introduce you to. The potential.”

Potential? What the heck did that mean? Surely Lorne wasn’t selling her into white slavery or something, not to mention this guy looked about as scary as a glass of milk.

“Uh, right,” the man said, his eyes landing on her belly. Buffy protectively put an arm around her stomach. The guy sounded a tiny bit like Spike. Was he British too?

“That part doesn’t change anything, she still needs training,” Lorne said softly to the guy.

Lorne turned to Buffy. “You can sit and talk as long as you need to, on the clock. This is important. To me, you, and everyone in this city. This guy here, while he likes to call himself a rogue demon hunter, knows a hell of a lot about a great many things. Including what you are.”

“W-w-what I am?” Buffy stammered.

Lorne nodded and patted her back. “An unconventional potential needs an unconventional Watcher. Now I’ll leave you two to get acquainted, oh and I’ll send Anya over with a Reuben for you too, Buffy. Before you inhale the one off his plate.”

“Thanks,” she said as Lorne headed back towards the bar. She sat down and looked at the guy, who appeared as stunned as she was. “Er, hi, I’m Buffy.”

The guy tried to smile. “Um, hello, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Wesley. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.”


	8. Tater Tots

And if you live you can fall to pieces

                -Soundgarden, “Burden In My Hand”

 

****

It was Friday morning and the bar was quiet, so when Wesley sighed the sound was abnormally loud. Though if the girl in front of him noticed, she didn’t give him any sign. She was frowning down at the book on the table, which was open to a section describing loose-skinned demons. Like Clem, the bar’s cook who was cheerily humming to himself as he did prep.

The book was the most scientific-sounding one Wes had in his possession. Even after only knowing her a couple of days he’d realized she wasn’t going to buy the Council party line on all things demonic. Not that he did, either. After his last potential, a meek girl in St. Louis that would have never been called, had been killed in a Council mandated training exercise that she hadn’t been ready for, Wes had quit. Then he’d drifted. He’d thought maybe he’d fight the good fight on his own, but in the end, it’d just meant he’d gotten to know demon after demon. He’d washed up in Seattle at Lorne’s bar, looking for work.

He hadn’t expected for Lorne to take him aside and tell him he had a potential to train, but Lorne had been dead serious and Wes had the feeling that the guy had known a whole lot more than he’d let on.

Buffy herself had been the biggest surprise. Her pregnancy alone had knocked him for a loop. Buffy had tolerated him staring for all of about thirty seconds before standing up, marching to his side of the table, grabbing his hands, and putting them on her belly. She’d informed him she was five months pregnant with twins, that their biological father had run off, and that they were not, in fact, sucking her brain out. He’d felt sufficiently shamed.

Over the next couple days he’d filled her in on the basics of the Council and its history, including why he wasn’t part of it anymore. Buffy had seemed to respect him a lot more after that.

He took a drink of soda and watched her frown even harder. “This is all so, I don’t know, clinical, I guess. If I’d only read this and never met Clem, I’d think all demons like him were one step away from eating me.”

“Actually, you’re right. I’ve never met a loose-skinned demon that thought of people as food. It’s a problem with most of the material I have, it makes every demon out to be…well, demonic, not to mince words.”

“Huh,” she said and turned the page.

“I suppose it’s partially to make the job of a Vampire Slayer-” He interrupted himself as Buffy lifted blazing eyes from the page. Oh, blasted wonderful, here they went again.

“Why does it have to be Vampire Slayer?” she asked.

“It’s just a title.”

“I don’t like it. As far as I can tell a _Slayer_ ,” she emphasized the word, “kills lots of kinds of nasty demons. Don’t know why vampires have to be singled out.”

“Oh, for-” Wesley rubbed his temples. “I think we should call it good for today. On Monday we’ll focus on vampires and I’ll explain why they’re the bread and butter of any Slayer’s job.”

She hunched her shoulders, but nodded a reluctant agreement. The poor girl had probably seen one too many romantic movies. He’d erase all of those silly notions quickly. A lot of demons were a good deal more than the Council made them out to be, but vampires weren’t one of them.

His last potential’s drained corpse flitted before his eyes. There was no way he was repeating that mistake. 

****

Buffy happily swung her bag of new clothes as she, Willow, and Xander made their way to the SeaTac Mall’s food court. It had been a great afternoon of shopping and catching up with her friends. And for once she’d even had enough cash to buy a few things. Nothing exciting: a new bra to fit her expanding chest, though it was the laciest, prettiest one she could find, and a new pair of pants and two new tops. The selection of clothes in the maternity store had surprised her, and while it’d been more exciting to window shop The Bon Marche, she was happy with her selections.

Xander had balked at even going in the store, however, and had sat outside drinking something from Orange Julius while she and Willow had shopped. Willow had bought a cute skirt at a trendy outlet—which Buffy tried not to be jealous about— and Xander had gotten an off-brand set of work boots.

Now they surveyed the seemingly endless options of the food court.

“Bad Chinese?” Xander asked, gesturing to the place with a sort of buffet.

“Oh, bad Chinese,” Willow agreed.

Buffy quirked her lips to the side. “Not for me. But grab me some extra soy sauce, okay?” Willow nodded and Buffy headed towards the place with the neon cactus out front. “Three large orders of mexi-fires,” she told the pimply kid behind the counter, ordering the place’s equivalent of tater tots.  

“Is that all?”

“And a bottle of water.”

The kid rang her up and handed her a bag with her food. It smelled delicious. She dumped a couple of handfuls of condiments in the bag and went to find her friends. They’d claimed a table near the place that sold cookies. Buffy frowned and almost asked them to move. When she’d been little her parents would bring her here and they’d always bought her a cookie. For a second it made her sad. She couldn’t imagine her daughters doing anything terrible enough to make her never want to see them again. Her parents hadn’t even been willing to listen to her when she’d tried to tell them it’d been an accident and she’d been attempting to stop a group of guys from bullying some of the younger kids. The kids had fled, there’d been a lighter she’d grabbed from one of the guys, and next thing she’d known the gym had gone up in flames.

Buffy sighed and plunked her bag down. The scent of baking cookies hit her nose. Okay, that was really good. A light bulb went on over her head. There was no reason she couldn’t start new traditions. She’d buy her own damn cookie, and one for Spike too, and they could eat them together. So there.

She dumped her tots out into a big pile on a couple of napkins. “So how’s work, Willow?” she asked.

“Eh, it’s okay. The new girl sucks. I think she might score a negative on an IQ test.”

Xander snorted. “And that’s being charitable.”

Buffy dumped hot sauce, soy sauce, mayo, and relish on her tater tots. Her stomach rumbled. She looked up to find Xander and Willow staring in horror at her. She picked up a tot and took a bite. It was delicious. “What?” she asked, annoyed.

“Uh, nothing.” Xander took a big bite of sweet and sour chicken. “How’s your new job going?” he mumbled.

“Great!” She ate another tot. “I really like my boss and my coworkers are all nice. In fact, there’s another open waitress position, Willow, and when I asked Lorne—he’s my boss—about it, he said you should apply for it. Oh, and the daytime bartender? Her name’s Tara, and Willow, you totally need to meet her. She’s just your type. She wears clogs.”

“A lot of women wear clogs,” Willow said with a giggle.

“Yeah, but I’m kind of sure not all of them are pretty, nice, and have an endless supply of shirts with environmental slogans on them that look like they were bought at Valu-Village.”

Willow perked up. “Really?”

“Really. And you know I have a completely crappy gaydar and even I know which team she’s batting for,” Buffy said with a nod, snagging a tot dripping with soy sauce.

“So when can I apply for this job?” Willow asked, eyes bright.

Buffy quirked her mouth to the side. “You could come with me Monday, but…”

Willow’s face fell and Xander looked confused.

“I kind of need to tell you some stuff first,” Buffy said in a rush.

Willow did her best not to look at Buffy’s lunch as she leaned forward. “Like what?”

Buffy sighed. There wasn’t an easy way around this. “The Sun Thief is a demon bar.”

Xander laughed.

“What does that mean?” Willow said.

Buffy shoved a handful of yummy tater tots in her mouth to give herself a second to think. Finally, she had to swallow. “Er, it means most of the patrons are demons…like they’re not human.”

Xander reached over and put a hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling okay, Buffster?”

“I’m fine.” She batted his hand away. “And I’m not crazy. It turns out the world is a lot weirder than I thought it was, but the pay is really good and I’m learning a lot. I think you’d fit in really well, Willow.”

“Didn’t Spike get you this job?” Willow asked, her nose scrunched up.

“Uh, yeah.”

Both Xander and Willow stared at her.

“How’d he know about this ‘demon bar’?” Xander made exaggerated air quotes.

Buffy belated realized she’d backed herself into a corner. “He’s not human,” she finally muttered.

“What?” Willow asked, her fork dangling from her fingers.

For a second she didn’t want to say anything, but she really wanted to share. All of it would be easier if she had someone else to talk to about the whole supernatural world, the being a potential gig, and, more importantly, the whole I-might-be-in-love-with-a-demon thing. “He’s a vampire.”

Xander’s brows shot up and he chuckled. “Okay, Buffy, I don’t…this guy must have quite a pair…he told you he was a vampire? And you fell for it?”

Buffy huffed a breath. Seriously. She wrapped up the few remaining tots and dumped them back in the bag. “No, I did not meet some guy, tell him I like Dracula, and then went all googly-eyed when he said he was a vampire. I’m not stupid. There’s a lot more to it than that. Stuff I’ve seen, stuff that isn’t the kind of thing you can fake. He doesn’t shove a pair of candy fangs in his mouth and talk with a bad Transylvanian accent. I’m telling you guys the truth.”

“I told you to kiss him!” Willow looked alarmed.

“That actually ended up kind of being strange. He kissed me back, then stopped, then told me he wanted to be my guy, and I think he’s going to take me on a date. In other words, it all got a little muddled, but the during-kiss part was nice.”

Willow frowned. “Oh.”

“He’s old, so I think he has some weird ideas about how to…court a girl.” That sounded like the right word, she could imagine Spike saying it without any irony. “Anyway, Willow, even if you don’t want the job, meet me here,” she jotted the bar’s address down on a clean napkin, “and I can show you that I’m not insane.”

Buffy stood and Xander did too, catching her elbow with a warm hand. “Are you safe, Buffy?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

“Yeah, Spike would never hurt me.” That she knew for sure. He’d die before he’d let anything happen to her or the twins.

Xander raked a hand through his hair and sighed, searching her face a moment longer before he nodded. “Okay, but if you need help, we’re here.”

“Thanks,” she said, glad to know she had friends that would come to her rescue, even if their concern was a little misplaced. It was nice, the first time in years that she felt like she had multiple people in her corner. “Now come on, I want a white-chocolate macadamia nut cookie and I’m going to get Spike one too…or do you think he’d want just plain chocolate chip?”

Willow blinked. “You’re buying a vampire a cookie?”

“Duh, he doesn’t eat a lot of regular food, but he does it sometimes. And it’s the gesture more than anything. He’ll know I was thinking of him.”

“I’d just go for the plain chocolate chip.” Xander shrugged. “Guys usually don’t want too much fru-fru in their delicious treats.”

Buffy patted his arm. “Good idea.”

“Hey!” Willow called as she hurried after them. “Girls can also like regular cookies!”

****

_Le coeur peut s’arr_ _êter de battre; Le sang peut couler sans chaleur…_

Spike stuck a piece of paper in the book to mark his place and dropped it next to the futon. Buffy’d had an early shift and had insisted on walking and grabbing a muffin on the way, so he hadn’t even bothered getting up before she’d left. Then he’d been lazy and hadn’t stripped the bed linens and changed the futon into a couch. He still had lots of time before she’d be home since she was going to the mall with her friends after work. She didn’t even need a ride, leaving him at loose ends.

Leaving him with too much time to think.

He stared at the ceiling and absently scratched his stomach. His hand hesitated, then he let it wander down to idly run over his cock and cup his balls through the thin pajama pants he was still wearing. Without Buffy at home he hadn’t even had a reason to get dressed.

The bloody Aragon poem had made him think of Drusilla. That wound didn’t smart the way it had for months, when he couldn’t stop constantly peeling off the scab by thinking of her nonstop. He still missed her, but it’d become background noise. How had that happened? When had a century of playing court to his black goddess turned into something not very important? He frowned. He’d just been busy, that was all. 

Continuing to fondle himself, he called up one of his favorite memories of Dru. They’d been in Greece, the sea bright with moonlight. The honeymooners they’d drained were wrapped together in a blood-soaked quilt and pushed into one corner of the palatial suite he’d thought Dru would enjoy. She’d been going through the dead woman’s luggage, and as he’d stood on the balcony, watching the distant waves, she’d come to him wearing a sheer white nightgown. Spike could remember in perfect, loving detail how she looked: the way the material had caught on the tight buds of her tawny nipples, the dark triangle of her public hair that had called to him with a siren’s song.

With a sigh, Spike settled himself on the futon. He tucked one hand behind his head and spat in the palm of the other before pushing it under the waistband of his pajamas to firmly grip his now erect cock. He stroked himself.

Christ, she’d been a bloody sight. He’d pushed Drusilla back to the big bed covered in white sheets and drying blood stains as the fragrant sea air had rolled in through the open balcony door. He’d bore her down to the mattress, but then she’d rolled him over and rode him into bliss.

His hand sped up a fraction and he moaned.

Her bliss, anyway. She’d come, but then her attention had wandered. He’d tried to pull her into a kiss and she’d slapped him and told him to hurry up. He had, coming hard despite the fact Dru had been looking over at something in the corner of the room.

The dead bodies. As soon as he was finished she’d scampered away and spent the rest of the night talking to the dead couple, giggling and going on and on about nonsense. Spike had found a copy of _The Spy Who Came In From The Cold_ among the man’s luggage and had spent his night reading.

His hand stilled. For so long that had just been Drusilla. He’d felt lucky to have been allowed to spend even that amount of time worshiping her. Now he could feel the sting of that slap like it’d happened seconds ago, her perfunctory demand that he hurry up.

_Que le soleil meure ou renaisse; Le ciel a perdu ses couleurs…_

Spike tried to go back, to focus on that perfect erotic moment when she’d stood before him in that nightgown…but his mind refused to cooperate.

Agitated, he rolled over on his side and his cheek ended up pressed against Buffy’s pillow. Her scent washed down into his lungs.

Oh god.

His flagging erection sprung back to life. In his imagination, the coy Drusilla was replaced by a smiling Buffy. The sheer gown did nothing to hide the swell of her belly, her body so full of life that the feeling rolled in delicious waves off of her. She took his hand and pulled him to the bed, the sheets pristine white once more. He kissed her and she pushed him back onto the mattress with a giggle. Straddling him, she sank down, riding him hard, her body demanding pleasure from his.

Laying curled up on his side he roughly fucked his fist as he imagined Buffy’s warmth around his prick instead of his own hand. He had no idea if she’d yell her pleasure or quietly moan it out. He hoped for the former and so the Buffy in his mind’s eye screamed his name as she found her peak, her lips searching for his as soon as she started to come down.

With a grunt he came, pleasure rippling through his body as he spurted his load over his fist, stomach, and the bed.

He lay there, panting, her scent continuing to surround him.

Buggering hell.

Tears were pricking at his eyes. He wanted to beg her to be his Buffy. To want him, to need him with the same bone deep ache that he had for her. He pushed his trembling hand against her side of the bed and hoped she’d hurry home. Everything made more sense when she was there.

_Le vent sait mal s_ _écher les pleurs…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> from Richard II Forty by Louis Aragon  
> The heart can stop itself from beating; blood flow with no warmth...  
> Whether the sun is dying or being reborn; the sky has lost it's colors...   
> The wind poorly knows how to dry tears...


	9. Clams n' Chips

Someday yet he'll begin his life again

                -Pearl Jam, “Even Flow”

****

Buffy had woken up to the smell of pancakes. She’d sat down at the kitchen table and Spike had immediately slipped a blueberry pancake from the pan onto her plate. He’d made her a second and then sat down across from her.

He shifted nervously in the chair. “You have any plans for today?” he asked.

She paused with the bite of pancake on her fork dripping syrup. “Uh, no, sort of thought we’d spend it here.” The words felt dumb even as they left her mouth. Obviously, he had something he wanted to do and was probably checking to see if she needed a ride or something before he took off. Her stomach dropped. She’d been looking forward to bumming around with him.

Spike ran a hand over his hair as one knee jiggled. “Do you want…um…we could…would you like to go down to the waterfront? Look in the stores? Maybe go on a ferry? Uh…I mean with me?” He was looking at her earnestly.

Her brain clunked as it abruptly switching gears. “Like a date?” she asked.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.

Buffy felt herself blushing as she dropped her eyes to her breakfast. Taking a deep breath, she brought her gaze back up to his. “I’d like that a lot.”

Spike’s expression went from one of worry to absolute elation. “Perfect, I’ll just start getting ready then.” He disappeared into the bathroom and had the shower going in seconds.

Buffy laughed to herself as she finished her pancakes. After rinsing her dishes off she walked into the bedroom. And frowned. Spike had a set of clothes lying neatly on the top of an ironing board she didn’t remember owning. His boots were sitting there as well, looking newly shined. He was taking this whole date thing seriously. Really seriously. It made her feel odd as she stood there in her ratty pajamas with her hair sticking up in all directions. The twins were both awake and kicking restlessly, as if she could forget they were there.

When was the last time someone had wanted to go out with her? Self-consciously, she took the new pants she’d bought the day before off a hanger and picked a burgundy top that would do its best to be flattering. She grabbed her new bra and a clean pair of undies and socks. The black flats she had would have to do, walking up and down the steep hills of Seattle in anything else was just asking for issues.

As soon as Spike was out of the bathroom she occupied it. She took a shower, which included shaving her legs, though that part was getting increasingly awkward as her pregnancy progressed. She was facing the likelihood of it eventually being an impossibility. But today wasn’t that day. She dried her hair, put it up in a ponytail, dressed, and did her make-up. Nothing too showy, just enough to make her eyes pop and give a little color to her cheeks. She smiled at her reflection, until she caught sight of her belly. She turned to the side and looked hard at herself. She was very pregnant. There was no hiding it, or pretending that her baby bump wasn’t there.

A lot of the wind went out of her sails. Maybe Spike thought her face was cute and was going to continue with this date thing until after the girls arrived and then see what he thought of her, because she didn’t look very desirable with a watermelon stuck to the front of her.

There was a knock at the door. “Buffy? You about ready?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

The knob turned and Spike stuck his head in. It looked like he’d used enough gel to keep even the breeze off the Sound from ruffling so much as a strand out of place. “You okay?” he asked as she sighed and walked past him. “What’s wrong, luv?”

She bit her lip and her hands went to the swell of her abdomen. “Nothing, I’m being silly.”

“Tell me, please?” he asked, coming up behind her. “Did I do something?”

“What? No.” She blew out a long breath. “I just…I feel very pregnant right now, and I look it too.”

“Something wrong with that?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.

“It’s not a good look on me.” It wasn’t fair. He was devilishly handsome whether he’d just woken up or like now, when she didn’t even dare turn because she’d make a fool of herself by staring. And her? She looked like the family pig being fattened up for slaughter.

Buffy started as Spike’s hands landed on her hips. Hesitantly, he pressed himself against her back and his fingers worked their way forward until both his palms were flat against her belly. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed against the top of her head.

She bit back a laugh. “Have you seen me?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “Lovely, full of life. This,” his hands rubbed over her bump, “only adds to it. Any wanker who says otherwise needs his face rearranged.”

“And you’d be just the man to do it?” she teased. She almost believed him.

Spike’s arms tightened around her. “Just the man,” he echoed. “You’re not only pretty, Buffy, though I have eyes and can’t help but see that. You’re smart, caring, a good friend. You’re going to be an excellent mum. There’s so much I want to share with you. Though hell bloody well knows I don’t deserve to be here basking in your light.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I do like you right where you are.”

Spike chuckled. “Do you now?” he said huskily. Before she could come up with a response he’d let her go and was pulling his duster around himself. He grabbed her coat from the peg and held it out for her so she could easily slide in.

****

Buffy chatted about her friends as they walked through downtown towards the piers. It was mostly light hearted stuff, and he smiled at her matchmaking between Tara and Willow. The Gem of Amara was, as always, heavy on his finger. The risk of wearing it out was worth it, however, especially when Buffy tentatively reached out and intertwined her fingers with his as they walked past the bulk of the Seattle Central Library. He adjusted his grip so they were properly holding hands and sighed in relief when she didn’t pull away.

“You ever been in there?” she asked, nodding at the huge Library. The thing look like it’d been designed by a nut job, all metal and glass but at angles that didn’t look quite right. He shook his head. “It’s a trip. I’d think you’d like it, aside from the overly bright yellow escalators. Once the girls get big enough I’m sure we’ll be bringing them for story time.”

Something did a flip in his chest. He imagined sitting inside there, a girl on each knee, as they listened to a librarian read in a soft voice. “Yeah, good idea that.” He hoped he didn’t sound as choked up as he felt. Buffy squeezed his hand so he knew he’d probably failed. He needed to change the subject before he turned into a complete pile of mush. He tilted his head back and looked at the bright blue sky. “Seems like the weather is cooperating.”

Buffy graciously let him have his clumsy save. “For right now. Though having grown up around here I don’t really feel comfortable with a blue sky. Overcast is better and a little rain is best.”

He laughed and she swung their joined hands.

Down on the waterfront the smell of the sea was heavy. They stood and looked out over the Sound. The day was clear and the distant mountains were capped in white. It was beautiful. Beside him, Buffy turned her back on the water and looked at the skyscrapers of the city.

“Where’d you grow up?” he asked. 

“Little town called Enumclaw. It’s up towards the mountain.”

He looked at the dizzying array of peaks that surround the city. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

She laughed and took his arm, turning him and pointing at one that was larger than the rest. “Mt. Rainer. The mountain. You haven’t spent much time here, have you?”

“Not before now. Don’t fancy I’ll be leaving anytime soon though. Guess I’ll have to learn the lingo.”

She smiled even wider and hooked her arm through his. “Shopping?”

“Whatever the lady wants. Ferry goes at 1:30 so we need to be there just right before. Figure that’s lots of time for sightseeing and lunch.”

“Lead on!”

They ambled from pier to pier. Buffy poked through store after store, but didn’t buy anything. Even when she obviously fancied something she’d talk herself out of it and put whatever it was back. He tried to take mental notes of the things she liked, since Christmas was going to arrive before the twins. He did the math. She’d be around 28 weeks pregnant. He wanted to wake up Christmas morning and stay wrapped around her. Which meant he had some work to do between now and then. Buffy picked up a notepad made of some kind of eco-friendly material, made a face, and put it back. Well, he could strike that one off the list.

****

They were in Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe, poking through the mountains of odd things, when her stomach rumbled. Spike was immediately at her side. “Hungry, kitten?”

“Yeah, starving. Is Ivar’s okay? Clams and chips sound yummy.”

He nodded and they walked hand in hand to the take-out window, only there was a gift shop and she had to take a look first. As she contemplated an oven-mitt that was shaped like a salmon she saw Spike in the checkout line.

“What’cha got?” she asked, going to stand next to him.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, holding whatever it was down at his side.

“So you’re standing here for fun?”

With a sigh, he handed her what he’d been hiding. It was two pairs of baby socks. They were white with blue scalloped frills at the top and ‘Keep Clam!’ printed on them. “They’re cute,” he said defensively. Buffy set them down on the counter for the cashier to ring up. Tears were threatening. Spike took the bag and stuck it and the change in the pocket of his coat. “Something wrong?” he asked outside the front of the store.

“I’m trying not to cry!” she said, fanning her face.

“Over socks?” He looked adorably confused.

“It’s the first thing anybody, even myself, has bought for them.”

Spike’s face softened and he cupped her cheek. “Don’t worry, the little lambs will be spoiled rotten.” He leaned over so his mouth was close to her belly. “That doesn’t mean you’re getting cars when you turn sixteen. Now let’s get mum something to eat, yeah?”

Buffy laughed and went to stand in line at the counter. She ordered clams and chips, and Spike, after glowering at the menu, ended up with a cup of clam chowder. There was a heated place to sit, but she dragged Spike, who was carrying the food, out onto the pier. There was a fireboat docking close by and more seagulls than she could count. “I love it here,” she said softy, dunking a clam in tartar sauce.

They ate in silence, watching the fireboat. Well, Spike watched the fireboat and she watched Spike eat his chowder. With every bite, he’d turn the spoon over in his mouth and idly lick it off. It was way more interesting than scruffy men in rubber jackets tying knots.

The closer they got to finishing, the bolder the seagulls got, with a few landing on the fence right by their table. Buffy took a French fry and lobbed it over the railing and an enterprising gull caught it mid-air. She’d already finished her clams, even the crumbs, but still had lots of fries left. “C’mon,” she said to a surprised Spike, “this is the best part!” She tossed another fry to the waiting gulls and held the basket out to Spike. After a moment he grabbed a fry and threw it, a gull swooping down to catch the treat.

He laughed, then stopped and grinned sheepishly.

‘It’s okay.” Buffy patted his shoulder. “Even manly guys can like feeding the gulls. And I heard if they poop on you it’s good luck.”

“I think that’s pigeons, pet.” He nervously eyed the circling birds. On the Sound a huge ferry was churning up the water as it made its way towards its dock a couple piers down. “I believe that’s our ride,” Spike grunted as he tossed another fry into the air. Buffy upended the basket, dumping the remaining handful of fries into the water where a group of gulls rushed to squabble over them.

Spike slipped an arm around her as they made their way to the ferry terminal. It felt right and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. He bought round trip tickets to Bremerton and they walked together down the gangway onto the vessel.

“Have you ever done this before?” she asked as he looked around the starkness of the passenger deck. 

“No, never had a reason to.”

Buffy felt a thrill go through her. She sometimes wondered if she wasn’t boring to him. He’d lived so long and she was fairly certain most of that time hadn’t been spent under a rock, which meant he’d seen and done more things that she could ever dream of. Anything that was new to them, that belonged to them, was therefore special. “Let’s go outside then, we can watch the city.”

“Mite chilly for you, innit?”

“It’s not bad for Seattle in November. And this coat is awesome.” She went through the door onto the deck without waiting to see if he would follow, though she had no doubt he’d be at her heels.

The ferry chugged to life and pulled away from the dock. The air was brisk but not uncomfortable, and when Spike put his arms around her from behind he blocked most of the breeze anyway. The city looked lovely, with the Space Needle reaching for the heavens and the snowcapped mountains on the horizon. Eventually the ferry’s course took it away from downtown and the city view was replaced by trees and the houses of the super-rich.

“What’d you think?” Buffy asked, turning so she was facing Spike. But he wasn’t watching the shoreline, he was watching her. His hand cupped the back of her head.

“Lovely,” he murmured before bowing his head forward and bringing his lips to hers. His free arm wrapped around her and after a stunned moment she grasped his shoulders and kissed him back. Her tongue shyly met his and, oh god, this was good. She moaned and lamented the thick coat she had on because she was fairly certain his hand was petting her side in the vicinity of her boob, but she couldn’t really feel it through the layers.

One of her hands went to his neck to play with the little hairs there as her tongue explored his mouth. There were, behind his front teeth, bumps that she guessed were the hiding spots for his fangs. Poking at them with the tip of her tongue made him groan. His hold on her tightened, pressing her entire body firmly against him. The swell of her belly felt in the way and she whimpered in frustration, only to have him subtly change how he was standing to curve around her better.

The hand not on his neck left his shoulder and delved under his duster to grab his ass. It was nice and firm and she had the fleeting thought she really wouldn’t mind biting it, before remembering good girls probably didn’t get this handsy in public. Her palm flattened out and slid up to safer territory on his back.

Spike’s tongue rolled decadently around hers. He was making little animalistic growling noises in the back of his throat that were sexier than they had any right to be. God, she could stay like this forever,

She shivered. Drat. Spike broke the kiss. “Time to get you inside, yeah?” he said hoarsely. She nodded and allowed him to lead her into the cabin. They settled down across from each other and Buffy found herself blushing as Spike stared at her with a wide grin on his face.

She glanced out the window in time to see a tall black fin break the surface of the water. “Orca pod!” she cried, pressing against the windows. The other passengers on the ferry immediately started talking excitedly and flocked to that side of the vessel. She glanced at Spike and even he looked wide eyed as the sleek predators swam by. They passed the ship and disappeared. Buffy sat back with a happy sigh. She always felt like it was good luck to see the whales.

“Well, that was neat,” Spike said, propped his booted feet up on the bench next to her. “There was this one time down in Baja…” he trailed off.

“What’s wrong?”

“I realized you might not want to hear about when I was…” He crossed his arms and looked out the window.

She put a hand on his knee. “It’s okay. I’m reasonably certain you know the parts I wouldn’t want to hear, but you don’t have to pretend you didn’t have a life before you met me. How else am I supposed to get to know you?” She paused. “Unless it hurts too much to talk about stuff you two did together.”

His lips pursed. “You sure?”

She patted his knee. “I’m sure.”

“Well, okay, so it was grey whale migration season, right?”

****

In Bremerton, they had just enough time to run to Starbucks, grab hot chocolates, and make it back to the ferry for the return ride. Buffy had gotten the grey whale story out of him and had asked enough questions about Mexico to learn that one of his favorite parts had been the spicy local cuisine. He’d even agreed to tacos for dinner.

Back on the ferry, they stayed off the deck as fog had started to close in and rain wouldn’t be far behind.

Instead of sitting across from her, Spike tucked up next to her in on the bench seat. He’d finished his drink and ditched the cup, but she was still working on hers. His hand was gently petting her baby bump. “We should name them,” he rumbled.

They’d talked about it before a few times, but not seriously. “Yeah,” Buffy agreed. She bit her lip. “What if…what if we each named one?” She’d been thinking that made sense, but it was kind of a lot of responsibility. It made the girls more real, and it asked him to acknowledge that and share in the responsibility. Buffy was more than aware that guys could talk a good game but that they didn’t always follow through when push came to shove.

“I’d like that,” he said dreamily, dropping his head to her shoulder.

“Well, baby A,” she patted the right side of her belly, “I’d like to name Dawn. It was the name I picked for a girl before I knew it was twins. It makes me think of new beginnings.”

“Dawn…I like that.” His hand went to the right side of her tummy and gently rubbed for a second before returning to the left. “Then this little nibblet can be Anne.”

“My middle name?” Buffy asked, confused.

Spike sat up with a surprised look on his face. “Is it?”

“Yeah.” She frowned at him.

“It was my mum’s name.”  

Buffy’s heart clenched. “You want to name one of the girls after your mother?”

He swallowed visibly and nodded.

“But what if one day you…you…have your own…?”

“Buffy, it’s not like what I am has a cure. You, the girls? You’re my family. Probably the only one I’ll ever know.” He relaxed back against her and one hand returned to her belly while the other tugged at her ponytail. She turned to search his face, astonished at the depth of emotion she found there. “You’re the only one I’ll ever want.” His lips were soft as they landed on hers.  The kiss felt like a promise.


	10. Waffles

Seems every path leads me to nowhere

                -Alice in Chains, “Rooster”

****

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open. Ugh, Monday. The weekend had been too much fun to be over. At least work wouldn’t be horrible and Willow was going to meet her there. After the date with Spike on Saturday, Buffy had been too tired on Sunday to do much. They’d just stayed home, completing the big crossword puzzle together and then watching terrible reality TV and making fun of the contestants. Seriously, who would go on Survivor and not have learned how to make fire ahead of time?

She stretched a little, trying to decide how full her bladder was, when she became aware that she wasn’t alone under the covers. Unlike every other morning since Spike had moved in, he was still asleep instead of working on breakfast. She was lying tilted slightly towards his side of the bed, and while he wasn’t holding her, he had his forehead resting against her shoulder, his hands in loose fists against her side and his knees pressing into her thigh. He had a look on his face—brows drawn together, mouth turned down in a slight frown—as if he was concentrating very hard on something.

Dawn chose that moment to make herself known, doing what felt like a summersault. Buffy pushed the comforter back. Lately she was always too hot. It was a good thing Spike didn’t generate his own body heat. Having someone else’s warmth heating up the bed on top of her own furnace status would have been too much.

Her pajama top had ridden up, leaving her bump exposed. She watched as Dawn moved again, the motion visible. It made her giggle and beside her Spike stirred. Tilting her head, she watched his blue eyes blink open and a lazy smile spread across his face. “Good morning,” he rumbled.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She kissed the top of his head and the soft curls there. Secretly she adored when he didn’t slick his hair back, though she knew he was embarrassed by how quickly it turned into a wayward mop of tangles.

Spike’s eyes widened. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to…” He started to get up and Buffy had to quickly grab his wrist to keep him with her. She wanted to roll her eyes at him, because did he seriously think she was going to get pissy that he wasn’t already up and doing something? It wasn’t like she was Ms. Productivity in the morning. He lay back down as she placed his hand on her belly, right over where Dawn was pulling her antics.

“She’ll have her sister awake and doing the same in a minute,” Buffy said softly. “But Dawn is always the first one up and moving. I bet she’ll be dragging Anne into trouble for their rest of their lives.”

Spike grinned and then gasped as Dawn executed another big kick. “I could feel, bloody hell, I could see that.” He poked gently at her tummy and Dawn moved again. Spike chuckled. His head was resting on her shoulder as they watched her belly. Anne finally got in on the action, pushing herself to the side so Buffy felt distinctly lopsided. Spike reached over and rubbed the obvious bump. “Is your sister bugging you?” he cooed. The twins continued to move as Spike’s cool fingers glided over her stomach. Buffy was becoming uncomfortably aware that all he needed to do was slide his hand up a few inches and he’d be touching her breasts. Her nipples puckered against the thin fabric of her pajama top.

Buffy knew the instant Spike noticed. Something changed in how he was lying against her and there was a subtle shift in the way his fingers slid over her skin. She was barely breathing, imagining turning on her side and him pulling down her pajama shorts and pushing himself inside her. There was a hungry pulse from between her thighs and Spike’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in.

Okay, he couldn’t smell…could he?

She licked dry lips and Spike growled very faintly. She couldn’t help but glance down his bare torso, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that the front of his pants was sticking out further than it had been. Her heart felt like it was beating a million times a minute. She wanted him.

Her hand started to descend towards–

Of course, at that moment one of the babies shifted and her full bladder went from something she was aware of to being a full-on emergency. She sat up abruptly. “Sorry! Baby on bladder!” She heard Spike laughing as she beelined to the bathroom, barely making it in time. Buffy wondered if all the human bodily functions, of which she seemed to have more than her fair share of since getting pregnant, bothered him. He didn’t seem to have any of his own. He didn’t even sweat, which was totally unfair.

She could hear him puttering around the kitchen as she brushed her teeth. If one of the girls hadn’t chosen that second to play with her bladder she wondered what would have happened. Anything? Had Saturday’s date upgraded their relationship to boyfriend and girlfriend? It was still all really confusing and her pregnancy hormones clouded the issue. Her body seemed to think skipping work and staying at home to screw her boyfriend was a wonderful idea. Her boyfriend that she cared deeply about.

Her boyfriend she hadn’t told about some weird guy her boss had her talking to at work who said she was potentially a killer of his kind. Buffy wrenched a hairbrush through the tangle on the back of her head. There was no way she was this vampire slayer thingy. None. She was a girlfriend, a soon to be mother, and a waitress. That was all. If anything, she was a vampire lover, not…

Her mind went blank and she stared at her surprised face in the mirror.

She did, didn’t she?

Love him.

Buffy swept her hair up into a ponytail. The enticing smell of waffles drifted under the door. Alright. She was going to go eat yummy, delicious waffles and pretend her whole world hadn’t just shifted and snapped into focus. She didn’t know if she trusted her own heart, it could be an idiot. She’d believed she’d loved Riley, too, but she hadn’t been shattered when he’d left. But Spike, if he–

She couldn’t even think it.

Waffles. Waffles were good.

****

Willow paced nervously on the sidewalk. Xander had dropped her off a few minutes ago on his way to his construction gig. She worried about him. His current boss was a jerk that had a tendency to cut corners, but the pay wasn’t bad and it was steady work, so Xander didn’t complain too much. He couldn’t or he wouldn’t have a job.

She was fiddling with the sleeves of her green corduroy coat, wondering if maybe she’d gotten the directions wrong, when Buffy rounded the corner. She seemed lost in thought, but her eyes lit up when she saw Willow.

“Hi!” Buffy called. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” She hugged Willow and the baby bump totally got in the way. Willow couldn’t imagine lugging two extra people around with her everywhere she went. “I thought with the whole, y’know, demon thing, you might bail.”

“Nah.” Willow shrugged. “Almost anything would be better than the diner, right?” Willow smiled lopsidedly. She and Xander had been talking all weekend about Buffy, because while her friend didn’t seem to be in any danger, she couldn’t honestly believe Spike was a vampire and that the bar’s customers were demons and not humans.

“Amen to that.” Buffy looked radiant, better than Willow had seen her in a long time.

“Did you have a good weekend?” Willow asked.

“It was amazing. Spike took me down to the waterfront and we made out on the ferry, oh, and we named the girls: Dawn and Anne.” Buffy sighed dreamily.

“Those are really pretty,” Willow said.

Buffy ran a hand over her belly. “Anne was Spike’s mother’s name. Can you believe that? Oh Willow…I think I love him. I sort of figured that out this morning.”

Uh-oh. Willow gritted her teeth and tried to smile. Buffy so didn’t need to be in love with the crazy guy who said he was a vampire.

“We still haven’t slept together, but I think that has more to do with him being all old. He has some weird notions about dating and relationships.”

“Old? What is he, like 30?”

Buffy giggled. “I think around 150? I’m not exactly sure. But he was turned in 1880, when he was 26.” She paused. “Do you really think he looks 30? He has the eye crinkles, but those are cute.” Buffy pursed her lips together as she thought.

Willow felt uneasy. Her friend was buying this guy’s story hook, line, and sinker. Not cool.

“Anyway.” Buffy waved a hand. “Why don’t you come and meet Lorne and Tara? Wes might already be here too.”

“Who’s Wes?”

“I’ll explain it later; he’s kind of my teacher.”

Teacher?

Willow followed Buffy through the plain door and felt her jaw drop. The nondescript exterior had been hiding a gorgeous place. The neon sign spelling out the bar’s name was in itself a work of art.

“Hi Lorne!” Buffy called. “This is my friend Willow I was telling you about.”

Willow looked toward the bar. Her breath left her. Standing behind it, a glass in her hand, was the most stunning woman Willow had ever seen. The woman smiled at something and the whole room seemed to light up.

“That’s Tara,” Buffy said in Willow’s ear. “And this is Lorne.”

Willow pulled her eyes away from Tara, and then did a double take. The man holding his hand out to her was wearing a pink suit, blue shirt, and had green skin and red…horns? It was the best make-up job she’d ever seen.

“Hi,” she said, shaking Lorne’s hand.

He chuckled. “You look confused, cinnamon. Have a touch.” He bowed his head toward her. Willow glanced at Buffy, who had a hand across her mouth to stifle her giggles. Feeling completely out of her depth, Willow reached out her hand and swiped it over Lorne’s forehead. His skin was cool and dry and her fingers didn’t come back green. Hesitantly, she touched one of his horns. It didn’t wiggle when she pushed on it. “Much more of that and I’ll have to ask you to go steady,” Lorne said. Willow snatched her hand back.

“Uh,” she managed.

“He’s kidding,” Buffy said.

Lorne straightened up. “Hey Clem,” he hollered. “Get out here, I’ve got someone for you to show off to.”

Willow’s eyes felt like they were going to fall out of her head as she watched the strangest creature she’d ever seen walk out of the kitchen.

The creature, um, Clem, pulled his apron off. “Boss, you know I don’t like doing this.”

“I know, but this one needs to not be a skeptic,” Lorne said with an apologetic smile.

“Clem’s a loose skinned demon,” Buffy said. “And our cook, and an all-around nice guy. He doesn’t eat people, so this is all show.”

Willow gulped. “O-okay.”

With a sigh, Clem clopped until he was in front of her. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish shake of his head. Then his face did something and there were tentacles waving and– Willow screamed. Instantly, his face was back to normal. “Sorry,” he repeated, looking completely ashamed. “I don’t like making people afraid.”

Willow didn’t know what to say. Buffy had been telling the truth. It was all real.

“Thank, Clem,” Buffy said. “You’re a good sport and I appreciate you helping me convince Willow. Plus, you make the best Ruben sandwiches anywhere.”

The demon smiled. “Thanks, Buffy.” He shuffled back to the kitchen, nabbing his apron on the way.

“Do you need to sit down?” Buffy asked.

Willow nodded weakly and Lorne whisked a chair over from a nearby table for her to collapse into.

“Take it easy, ginger snap. Everything you believe just changed.” Lorne patted her shoulder.

Willow looked up at him hazily and snorted a laugh. “Understatement of the year.” Her brain felt too full. “ _Green Acres is the place for me…_ ” she sang under her breath. She had to be going crazy. There weren’t demons and an entire other part of existence she didn’t know about. She’d been homeless for almost two years. She’d seen everything. Though, her nose scrunched up, there being demons might actually explain a few things.

Lorne was looking at her with eyebrows raised. “I didn’t even have to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Lorne can read people when they sing,” Buffy said. “He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“Thanks, babycakes,” Lorne said to Buffy. He tilted his head. “I think Wes has a lot planned for you today, you might want to get started.”

“Yay!” Buffy gave a fake cheer and headed towards a table where a worn-out looking man was sitting and nursing a soda.

Lorne glanced towards the bar and Tara. “She’s one of us,” he said quietly.

Tara nodded. She looked shyly at Willow. “Welcome to the other side of the looking glass.”

Lorne knelt so he was eye level with her. “It’s going to get easier, and it’s going to get harder. Tara’s going to teach you how to mix the kind of specialty drinks we have here and you’ll be helping Anya serve when it gets busy. Same pay as your friend, but I need her studying with Wes. Got it?”

“Okay,” Willow said shakily. There was no going back now. No going back to the diner and pretending all this didn’t exist. No running away and sticking her head in the sand. Normal had flown out the window, but if Buffy could do it, then so could she.

And, oh holy crap. Buffy had been telling the truth all along, which meant she really was living with a 150-year-old vampire. This day couldn’t get any weirder unless tadpoles started to rain from the ceiling. She looked up hastily, but none materialized.

“Tara’s also going to teach you about magic,” Lorne said. He stood and patted her on the shoulder one more time before walking off.

Willow looked at Tara. “Did he say magic?”

Tara laughed softly and it made Willow inhale sharply. It was a beautiful sound and she’d do almost anything to hear it again. “Yes, magic,” Tara said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before holding her hand out. Something small, red, and round rose from the bar and gently bobbed its way through the air as Willow watched, stunned. She put her hand out and the thing landed neatly in her palm. It was a cherry tomato, the top cleverly carved to look like a rose.

Willow stared at Tara, who was blushing. “Wow,” Willow breathed. She stood up and walked towards the bar. Tara’s shirt was purple with a worn World Wildlife Fund logo. Willow shrugged off her coat to reveal her green shirt that had ‘It’s All About The Trees’ screened on the front. Tara’s eyes darted down to read it, then lingered for a moment as she blushed brighter.

Willow felt herself grin. Life had thrown her a lot of curveballs, but maybe this one wouldn’t be all bad.

****

Buffy frowned as Wes thudded a big book down onto the table in front of her. Hopefully he didn’t expect her to read it. “What craziness are we discussing today?”

Wes sighed. “It would behoove you to take this all seriously, Buffy.”

“Right, in case the gods above decide an eighteen-year-old who’s pregnant with twins should save mankind. Got it. As long as they don’t need me to pick up anything that falls on the floor we should be okay.”

Wes looked like he agreed, but then he schooled his features. “Whether or not you believe in the Powers that Be doesn’t matter. Both of us are doing this because we believe in Lorne. He thinks this is important, so we should as well.”

Buffy deflated. Wes was right. “Fine, lay your Watchery knowledge on me then.”

Wes looked over the top of his glasses at her. “Vampires.”

“Oh goody.” Buffy did her very best to continue looking bored.

****

The trailhead was an out of the way one, even though it was only a thirty-minute drive from downtown.  There was only one other car in the tiny parking lot. Perfect. He parked the DeSoto and shucked off his duster. After getting out and stretching, he sniffed the Subaru, which was covered in bumper stickers that said things like: ‘I’d Rather Be Hiking’ and ‘Not All Who Wander Are Lost’. He could scent a man and a woman, but no dog. Perfect, there’d be no one to hear him coming. The weather was even cooperating, the sky overhead an unmarred blue. It might be trickier to catch them unawares without the cover of night, but that challenge itself felt exciting.

Shifting into his demon face he hit the trail running. Around him the deep woods went silent, the smaller animals scurrying for cover. He grinned. That’s right, the big bad had come to play.

****

Buffy wrinkled her nose. It didn’t seem right. “Vampires are just demons stuffed into a human suit?”

“That’s one way of looking at it. They retain enough of the host’s memories to be able to act human when needed.” Wes put his crossed arms on the table and leaned forward. “But it’s all show. They’re essentially mindless killers, rather like sharks. There’s no real emotion there. They can fake it, draw their prey out of somewhere safe, but in the end the goal is always to same: to kill and to drink.”

Buffy frowned. There was no way...Wes had to be talking nonsense. She could still feel Spike cuddled against her shoulder that morning, laughing with her as Dawn and Anne had played. He’d seemed delighted as he’d touched her belly and the little lives within. And why would a demon, who would only remember a dead man’s mother second-hand, want to name a child after her? “How do you know this stuff? Like, did you sit down with one Interview with A Vampire style?”

Wes rubbed his temple. “This is the wisdom of countless generations, Buffy. The Council has been around for a long time.”

“The Council you said you don’t like and aren’t a part of anymore?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I can simply ignore everything I was taught. Vampires are predators. Humans are their prey. To remain functional they must drink blood, and they glory in the chase and the kill. To believe anything otherwise is to be dead yourself.”

****

The couple had a good head start on him, but Spike could run nonstop and the trail was as easy one that meandered through the trees. The old growth forest was dense, with ancient pines towering up like skyscrapers. The lower levels were a thick tangle of underbrush. No forest fire had swept through here in ages. Even in winter it made for excellent cover. Somewhere to his left a stream was gurgling.

Ahead of him a woman laughed and Spike pulled up, standing still, listening. The trail curved, and the couple was just around the bend, moving away from him. They smelled young and healthy. The plan was simple: knock the girl unconscious and drain the man. The trail was dirt, not gravel, and there was a good chance they’d never hear him before they met their doom.

Excitement washed through him. It was almost dinner time.

****

Buffy followed Wes to the back of the bar. There was an open area there that Wes had shown her on Thursday and said he was going to fix up into a training room for her. It looked like he’d gotten a good start over the weekend, as there was a table with weapons, a punching bag and practice dummy, as well as several mats on the floor. Against one wall a bookcase was stuffed full of books that all looked like they were a century or two old.   

Her mind was whirling, confused between the things Wes had been saying and what she’d been living with for the past few weeks. She didn’t believe a lot of what she’d heard. Spike wasn’t an emotionless killing machine. He was the guy who she was pretty sure loved her, Dawn, and Anne before all else. He was the guy she was falling in love with, who was smart, funny, and who liked to read and watch corny TV.

But…

He was still a…

How was he getting blood?

She could imagine him, a woman in his arms as his mouth descended to her neck, his lips and tongue on her skin. Buffy’s stomach clenched and she felt faintly ill.

Wes was all business and completely oblivious to her inner struggles. “Name for me the weaknesses of a vampire.”

“Sunlight, holy water, crosses, beheading, fire, or a wooden stake to the heart,” she rattled off. There was another question. Spike went out in the sunlight all the time. Was it because he was old?

“Don’t forget they must be invited into a private residence.” Wes pulled a wooden stake from his pocket. With a deep breath and a solemn look, he passed it to her. It felt heavy and rough in her hand. She couldn’t imagine killing something with it. Wes had said that vampires exploded into dust when they died. Her imagination played out her plunging the stake down into Spike’s chest and him falling to dust. She gasped and fumbled the stake. It clicked loudly as it hit the floor.

Wes, who’d been droning on about how to aim for the heart, paused, and his brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” Buffy felt her face crumple. “This is just a lot to take in.”

“Is there no one you can talk to?” Wes asked gently.

“Not really. What am I supposed to say? Maybe Willow, now. But, I…I didn’t even tell my boyfriend. I just kind of keep hoping this is a bunch of made up junk that’ll go away.”

Wes frowned as he handed the stake back to her. “Boyfriend? I though you said the babies’ father ran off?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He did. That doesn’t mean I didn’t find someone wonderful after he left.”

“Oh.”

Anger was creeping in. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean every guy in the universe thinks I’m hideous.”

Wes coughed. “No, I didn’t…sorry.”

The anger left in a rush and she was left in almost tears again. “This whole ‘potential’ thing seems like too much on top of–“ She gestured to her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Wes said again. Tentatively he put his hand out and rested it on her shoulder. “I want to help you any way I can.” Buffy stumbled forward, feeling like the entire weight of the world was pushing down on her. Wes wrapped her in an awkward hug. “I’m going to keep you alive.”

****

The couple was so busy laughing and chatting that they never even turned around as Spike prowled up behind them. Neither of them had so much as a walking stick that could be considered a weapon. This was almost too easy. He licked his lips in anticipation.

He was less than a foot away and they still didn’t know he was there. The demon gloried in it. Spike felt every inch the hunter. He was the coiled snake that the mouse was unware was about to strike. He was strong, deadly. He could take care of what was his. His girls would never want for anything.

The demon was riding high. He should have waited for Buffy outside the bathroom, picked her up when she came out, dumped her on the bed on her hands and knees and plowed into from behind. He should have shagged her until she couldn’t stand. She would know how much he bloody loved her after that, and would love him back for making her…

Spike blinked. Dinner. Right.

With a growl, he slammed his fist into the woman’s cheek. Silently, she crumpled to the damp ground. Her heart stopped. Sod it, he’d only meant to knock her out but had managed to break her neck instead. He shrugged. Accidents happened.

The man screamed. He started to run, but didn’t make it five paces before Spike caught him. Wrenching the man’s head to the side, Spike tore into his neck, gulping down the fear-laced blood. It was over all too soon, but the fresh blood and the kill had him buzzing. He’d taken them both out in under ten seconds.

The demon was wishing for Buffy again, so she could tell him what a fine job he’d made of the kill, and then he could screw her up against a tree. She’d be so pleased with him and how capable he was.  The strong survived.

****

With a grunt, Buffy brought the stake down into the practice dummy’s chest. She found herself wanted to please her Watcher, but staking something was harder to do than it looked. She was focusing on moving just right and was refusing to think about anything else.

“Again,” Wes said.

She pulled the stake out and positioned her arm. Wes corrected her form and she rammed the stake home once more. “It’s probably a lot harder to do with actual, like, bone and stuff in the way, huh?”

“Yes, of course.” Wes stood with his arms crossed. “When a Slayer is called, she is blessed with preternatural strength, making the action of staking as easy as punching a hole in paper. The rest of us just have to try harder. And even if you miss the heart directly, a wooden stake to the chest is going to slow a vampire down, giving you a decent chance of escape. Which, as a potential, is your best choice in any dangerous situation.”

She nodded. Check. Not that she could run very fast at the moment. “Can we break for lunch?” she asked. “Plus, I should probably check on Willow.”

Wes smiled. “Of course, then perhaps I will have you read some of the Watcher’s diaries that I have, so you can get an idea of what a Slayer’s day-to-day life is like.”

Yippee, more reading. At least she could prop her feet up. Did Slayers ever get waffles for breakfast?


	11. Spaghetti

What else should I be

                -Nirvana, “All Apologies”

****

The apartment being so tiny meant that distracting himself with chores had a very short time limit. Spike crossed his arms. The dishes were done, he had chicken defrosting for dinner, and everything was swept, dusted, or vacuumed.  There had to be something else to do. He was edgy. Buffy had seemed out of sorts all of last night and this morning. When he’d asked if she wanted to talk about anything she’d smiled sadly and said no, there was just a lot on her mind.

He hadn’t known what to do, so he’d let it drop. There had been one bright light. After they’d gone to bed, Buffy had lain on her side, facing away from him. She’d kept wiggling and sighing, and finally he’d risked snuggling close to her and putting his arm around her. For a moment, he’d thought she would push him away, as she’d gone stiff as a board under his touch, but then she’d relaxed and cuddled against him. She’d been asleep in less than a minute.  It’d taken him somewhat longer as he’d happily basked in the fact that she felt safe enough to rest in his arms.

This morning had seen her return to being standoffish. Maybe it was a hormone thing? He’d put chocolate chips in her pancakes just in case, which had gotten him a smile, but no answers before she’d left for work.

Women were frustrating.

He pushed open the window and sat on the fire escape for a cig. The sun was shimmering off the sliver of water he could see and the whole city smelled of ocean. He liked it here. He liked Buffy…bloody hell, loved Buffy. It was a good place to raise the girls. Lots of easy food, being a big city, so hunting was never a problem. He closed his eyes and leaned back, exhaling a lungful of smoke slowly. He still missed Dru, but this? Everything he had now? He didn’t think he’d exchange a minute of it to get her back.

Spike paused but even his demon seemed in agreement. For the first time he could remember he felt…comfortable. He fit here. It was nice.

After tossing the cigarette butt away and hopping back through the window, which he locked, he was confronted with the problem of what to do again. He looked at the poetry compilation sitting on the floor next to the futon, but melancholy words didn’t fit him at the moment.

_Je n’oublierai jamais les jardins de la France…_

Fine, laundry it was. He grabbed a pocketful of quarters out of a kitchen drawer and the plastic basket out of the bedroom. The hamper was in the bathroom and he set the basket down on the toilet as he set about sorting through the clothes. Holding up the shirt Buffy had worn to work yesterday, he sighed at a stain on it. Was that ketchup? He sniffed the fabric. The spot was barbeque sauce, but the scent that overwhelmed his nose wasn’t food.

It was human. Human and male.

Spike’s stomach plummeted. He sniffed again. She’d been in close contact with some guy. With an anguished cry, Spike pawed through the laundry, yanking out her other work shirts. He could smell the same guy on all of them, though not as strongly as the latest. So she’d only let him get his hands on her yesterday? Or had she made sure to take off her clothing first on other days?

Anger knifed through him. Pain.

He’d been trying to do the right thing by her, to give them both time to figure their hearts out before rushing in, but…

Buffy’s hands pushing him against the wall. She’d wanted…maybe needed, he’d turned her down and she’d gone elsewhere to scratch her itch. Was she developing feelings for this other guy? Was that why she’d been so distant?

Cold fury descended over him. He would kill this interloper. Rip his sodding kidneys out through his throat. Then he’d take Buffy right there on the damn floor of the bar so everyone would bloody know who the girl belonged to. He’d make her scream the rafters down so she wouldn’t have any doubt, either.

He dropped the shirt to the tiles and grabbed his duster on the way down to his car. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it. The drive didn’t take long and there was even a parking spot in front of the bar. He slammed the driver’s side door shut and rushed into the building.

“Spike?” Lorne asked, looking up from where he was sitting.

Spike ignored him as his eyes searched the room. Towards the rear he found Buffy. She was with a tall, brown-haired man. The guy had his hand on her back and was ushering her through a door. It wasn’t even noon and they were already going to…?

Spike’s tenuous self-control snapped. That was the girl he loved. If that git was touching her he wasn’t going to have hands. If he was…the image of Buffy under the guy, her legs spread wide while he pounded into her…Spike’s demon surfaced with a vicious snarl.

“Spike?” Lorne was at his shoulder. Spike pushed him away with a clawed hand and stormed towards the door Buffy had disappeared behind. He tore it from its hinges. Inside he saw them standing side by side, shoulders nearly brushing. It took him a mere second to cross the room, spin the tosser around, and grab him by the throat.

The man’s face paled as Spike slammed him against the wall.  The loser didn’t even try to fight back. And this? A skinny guy with scruffy hair and glasses, this was what she wanted to fuck? Spike’s eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched, digging his claws in harder. How could she want this nobody rutting between her thighs?

But it was the right guy, the scent matched.

“Spike?” Buffy said. He turned his head to look at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, a hip jutting to one side, and her lower lip sticking out. Balls. He knew that look. It usually meant he’d messed up somehow.

But no, she was the one cheating on him.

“Spike?” she said again.

****

Wesley was sure he was going to die.

A vampire had him by the throat. Wes could barely get air in around the thing’s clammy hand and sharp claws.

“Spike?” his potential said. Wes couldn’t speak, couldn’t warn her. Why wasn’t she picking up a stake? Or doing what she should do: run. Wes’ oxygen starved brain slowly put two and two together.  Spike. William the Bloody. Killer of three Slayers. The creature holding him fit the last known description of the vampire. Had he taken to murdering potentials?

Wes vaguely wondered why he was still alive.

“Spike?” Buffy said again. How did she know that’s who it was? Wes didn’t think he’d given her any material on the Whirlwind or Scourge of Europe.

“Have something to say?” the vampire snapped at her.

“Yeah, duh. What are you doing?”

“No!” the vampire cried. “What are you doing? I was sorting the laundry and I could smell this wanker on your clothes!”

Wes thought he must be delirious from lack of oxygen. Sorting the laundry?

His potential giggled. “He’s my teacher. I got all weepy yesterday because, seriously, I don’t really want any part of all this mumbo-jumbo potential stuff and he gave me a very awkward and short-lived hug.” Buffy put her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute, did you really think I was…?”

“Potential?” the vampire said. His head swiveled left and right before his gaze landed back on Wes, who tried to swallow, found he couldn’t, and just nodded weakly. “You’re a potential?” the vampire asked Buffy again, seeming to be completely confused.

“That’s what Lorne said, and that I had to listen to this guy, but I think everyone is nuts. I’m going to be a mom in three and a half months. And I don’t like studying. And…I really don’t want to have to kill vampires.” She looked down at her belly.

The creature shook Wes one more time before tossing him casually away so he smacked into another wall. Wes let himself slide to the floor and tried to curl up as small as possible as he watched the horror show unfolding in front of him. Any second now Buffy was going to be ripped to shreds.

“Kitten, you’re sure that’s what Lorne said? A potential?” The vampire looked more like he was trying to solve a puzzle than prepare for an attack, his brow a furrowed ridge above his yellow eyes.  

Buffy looked like she was about to cry. “I don’t want to be. No one asked me.”

The vampire raked a hand through his hair, then held his arms open. “C’mere, luv.”

Wes felt his jaw drop as his pregnant, sobbing potential flung herself into the vampire’s embrace.

“It’s okay,” the demon whispered against the top of her head as his vamp features were replaced by his human mask. “It’s going to be okay.” The vampire’s hand gently ran over the swell of her stomach. What the hell was going on?

“I can’t do this,” she said against the creature’s chest.

“Shhh, of course you can. You’re the strongest woman I know. If Lorne says you need to learn it, you learn it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just…I didn’t want it to be true.”

“I know.” The demon cupped Buffy’s cheek.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Never. Bit surprised, yeah, but not mad. Mostly glad you’re not humping the berk.” Buffy laughed and the vampire smiled at her. “Should have known better. You’re my girl.” She nodded and Wes gawked as she let the vampire kiss her.

That was it. He shakily got to his feet.

Okay, that was tongue and that was really it.

“What is the meaning of this?” Wes said as forcefully as he could.

The vampire broke the kiss and frowned at him. “Having a moment with my girl, do you mind?”

“Yes, I do mind, blast it. That’s my potential!”

Buffy hastily stepped between them. “Um, Spike, this is my Watcher, Wesley. And Wes, this is my…boyfriend, Spike.”

“B-B-boyfriend?” Wes stammered. Was she mad?

At her words the vampire, well, Spike, had lit up. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled the top of her head.

Wes straightened his shirt. “Why don’t you ask you boyfriend there who killed the last Slayer.”

“Well, gee, when you say it like that,” Buffy muttered. She turned in the monster’s arms and ran her fingers over his cheek. “Did she kill Drusilla?” Buffy asked in a small voice.

Spike leaned into her touch. “Yeah.”

“Then you killed this Slayer?”

He hesitated, but finally nodded.

“It’s war, isn’t it?” Buffy continued to pet the vampire’s face.  “And that makes it fair, doesn’t it?”

Wes made a sputtering noise and Spike’s brows shot up. “ ‘S right,” the vampire said. “I didn’t kill her family or take out her mates or her Watcher. She killed Dru, I killed her, and I left. End of story.”

This was impossible. Buffy couldn’t be…canoodling with this thing.

Someone cleared their throat. Lorne was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “When I agreed to the modification of the peace spells so that you could train Buffy back here, I didn’t realize it was going to cost me a door the first day.”

“Sorry,” Spike said. “I thought–“

Lorne waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not, girl’s a bit too hung up on you, tea-cake. Let’s just not do it again.” Lorne’s eyes landed on Wes. “And you can get off your high horse and help me clean things up. Spike, take Buffy home, that ugly car of yours is bad for business.”

The vampire didn’t need to be told twice as he started to usher Buffy out of the room.

Wes put a hand on her elbow as she walked by. “He’s getting his blood from somewhere, Buffy, you might want to think about that.” For a second he thought he saw understanding in her eyes, but then she was gone, whisked out the door by a mass-murderer.

“You know,” Lorne said conversationally, “I’m trying very hard here to keep us all alive. I wish someone would help out once in a while.”

Wes didn’t know what to say. If they were dependent on that girl and her decision-making skills, then the world was doomed.

****

It hadn’t been a good day. Buffy walked into the apartment and sighed. Flopping down on the futon she kicked her shoes off. Why did this all have to be so confusing? The desperation in Wes’ gaze as he’d grabbed her arm was haunting her.

Her Watcher wasn’t wrong, she did need to think about what the guy…vampire she was living with ate. She knew, had always known. She just hadn’t wanted to think about it, ever.

Spike had followed her in and was currently humming something to himself in the bathroom. He came out with a basket full of laundry.

“I’m going to take care of this, you doing okay?”

Buffy nodded. She swung around so her feet were up on the couch and clicked the TV on. Spike smiled at her and headed out the door to the laundry room, nearly bouncing on his toes. It was hard not to let herself forget, to get lost in the happy with him. She knew he was excited because she’d called him her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend.

Who she loved.

Who ate people.

Buffy shivered, suddenly cold. She pulled the comforter off the floor and wrapped it around herself. When Spike came back he sat on the futon so her feet were in his lap. His long fingers massaged them and her ankles while he laughed at the idiots on the talk show Buffy had settled on watching.

“What do you want for supper?” he asked during one of the commercials.

 Not the nice lady who lives a block over, she felt like retorting. Instead she shrugged. “Something easy, I guess.”

Spike nodded. He seemed blithely unaware of how stressed she was.

“I got some salad yesterday when I was out, can pair it up with some spaghetti, if that sounds alright. I was going to do something with chicken, but that can wait until tomorrow.”

“Sure, cool.” Yesterday, when he’d probably killed someone for his lunch while she was at work. Wesley must be so disappointed in her, and to her surprise, that bugged her. Wes seemed to be putting a lot of faith in her after initially being unsure. She didn’t want to let him down, but…still, this was her life and she had to do things her way.

“You can relax, goldilocks,” Spike said with a smile. “I really don’t mind you being a potential and I’m certain you’ll excel at anything your tweedy Watcher can come up with for you to do.”

Oh, so he wasn’t blind to the tension. Just the reason. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Everything just seems really complicated right now.”

“I know,” he soothed. “But no worries. I’ll take care of you, Dawn, and Anne. You know I can.” He looked earnestly into her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. Satisfied, Spike sat back, a grin playing over his features. Buffy pulled her feet from his lap and turned so she could rest her head on his shoulder. His arm went around her and he ran his other hand over her belly while softly planting a kiss on her hair. It was almost more tenderness than she could stand at the moment. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, that there was nothing but Spike and his soft touches.

The afternoon shifted into evening. The laundry finished washing and drying and she helped Spike put it up.

He made dinner, but didn’t have any of the spaghetti himself. He did sit with her at the table, watching her eat with a satisfied look on his face. She wondered if it was a vampire thing or just a Spike thing to get so much enjoyment out of taking care of her basic needs, or maybe it was a combination of both. As she ate he told her a story about trying to be cool in mid-century Italy, which had more or less ended in disaster.  Despite herself, she’d started giggling, which had pleased Spike to no end. It was too easy to get lost in his eyes and forget everything that made being with him a bad idea.

For a while she gave up and let herself pretend. She told him stories about her first, and only, year in high school. He’d laughed along with her at how ridiculous it all had been. Life had been easier back then though, when she’d only needed to worry about her outfit for the day and what cheer routine she was learning, instead of babies, possibly being needed for world save-age, and murderous, demonic men with handsome faces that she’d fallen in love with. Stupid reality.

When it was time for bed, she found herself immediately wrapped in his embrace as he spooned her from behind. His hand rested on her baby bump, encompassing Dawn and Anne in the hug as well. After a moment, she turned over to face him, lying so her knees were against his and her arm was around him. Spike softly kissed her before resting his forehead against hers. Beneath her hand, he rumbled with a contented purr. It trailed off as he fell asleep.

Her own rest wouldn’t come.

One of her daughters was awake and kicking. Dawn was a little night owl.

Buffy stared at the man who’d become such a huge part of her world so quickly. His lashes were fanned out across his cheeks and his soft lips were slightly parted. Her heart ached. She pushed away from him slightly and immediately Spike frowned and shifted towards her, seeking her out even in his sleep. That simple, unconscious action undid her.

Trembling, she hunched up until she could smush her face against him, her nose in the little hollow at the base of his throat. Taking deep breaths, she inhaled him, trying to memorize the nuances of his scent.

Both Dawn and Anne were busy now, moving freely, unaware that their little room was going to be much more cramped soon. If they didn’t exist…the stark reality hit Buffy that if she didn’t have her daughters to think about, then she wouldn’t say anything about Spike’s diet. She would simply turn a blind eye to the deaths of others in order to stay with him. The truth was she wasn’t a good person. She craved the way he touched her, how he looked at her. Something deep inside of her needed to be loved in the way he offered, and she was terrified to figure out she wouldn’t make a peep about where his meals were coming from as long as he kept giving her that love. If only it was just her…

Dawn tumbled over and pushed her legs out, reminding Buffy she absolutely wasn’t alone.

There was also the inconvenient fact that if Buffy hadn’t been pregnant, Spike would have killed her that first night. She would have died in that alley. It was so easy to forget how scared she’d been, because now she wasn’t afraid of him at all. He wouldn’t hurt her. It was hard to reconcile the sweet-smelling, handsome man who was holding her with the monster that’d almost had his fangs in her throat.

His fangs had been in the necks of other people since then. It made her feel funny, like she was falling off a really tall building, and she couldn’t quite shove away the fact that part of the weird feeling was jealousy. She didn’t want his mouth to be on anyone else.

Anne stretched to the side and Buffy shifted to try and get more comfortable. She’d been imagining Spike as part of the girls’ lives; from holding them as newborns to seeing them graduate college. But he couldn’t…Buffy knew she couldn’t have someone who would kill hundreds or thousands of people in the time it would take to raise her daughters. Should she sit at parent-teacher meetings and explain to the teacher that the twin’s dad was late because he was making a snack out of the janitor? Her daughters deserved more than to have to deal with murder and death as part of their childhoods because their mother thought the guy doing the murdering was cute.

No matter how much she loved Spike, no matter how much it hurt, she was going to have to give him up. For her daughters, who would never know what she sacrificed. Maybe Wesley could be Uncle Wes and help out with some of the day-to-day stuff when they were young. Buffy was sure her Watcher would be relieved to know Spike was gone.

Sleep for her only came in sporadic snatches. She let herself stay cuddled against Spike, desperate to burn him into her memory for all the lonely years ahead. She refused to cry, tears would be for later.

Buffy was thankful they hadn’t had sex. If she knew what he felt like inside her, the pain of tearing him out of her life would be that much more intense. Instead, she’d remember his taste and his gentle hands. She could always dream about what might have been.

She was better for having known him. If he would say the same, she had no idea.

There was one other thing that was eating at her. She loved him. She wanted him to know that, even if it was cruel to say it before asking him to leave. Her heart was screaming that he needed to understand she wasn’t doing this because she didn’t want him, or didn’t want to be with him. It was just…an impossibility for them to play house and raise children together. He couldn’t stop being what he was, he’d told her that, and she knew better than to ask him to try. People didn’t change because you wanted them to.  

Morning arrived. She’d hardly slept and her heart felt like lead. Pressing one last, lingering kiss to his chest, Buffy untangled herself from his embrace. She dressed and sat down on a kitchen chair, waiting to do the unthinkable.


	12. Milk

Now maybe I didn't mean to treat you bad

                -Candlebox, “Far Behind” 

****

Buffy sat still on the kitchen chair, watching Spike as he slept. He took the occasional breath and his fingers or toes twitched regularly. Even at rest he wasn’t still. He rolled onto his stomach and the comforter, which had been barely over him, gave up and dropped to the floor. He woke a moment later, his arm automatically reaching for her. The muscles of his back shifted under his smooth skin as his hand patted her empty spot. The fabric of his pajamas was tight over his rear end, which flexed as he raised his head to glance around. His eyes found her and his worried brow smoothed out. He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled at her.

She didn’t smile back as her stomach tied itself in knots.

“Everything okay, kitten?” he asked, his voice sleep-hoarse. His hair was sticking up adorably and Buffy had to curl her fingers around the wooden seat of the chair to keep from running to him.  

“No,” she answered.

He frowned and stood up, hitching up his pants as they threatened to let go.

“Can you get dressed?” This was going to be difficult enough for her, it’d be impossible if he was almost naked.

Frown deepening, he walked past her into the bedroom, coming out a moment later in a worn pair of black jeans and his usual black t-shirt. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “What’s wrong?”

Buffy stood as well, not liking how far she had to look up at him from the chair, though she hated that she already had to lead with her belly. Once upright, she met his gaze. He was worried and confused. Her stomach tightened down still further.

His fingers twitched and his arms dropped to the sides. “Talk to me, please?”

Time seemed to be going too fast. She was suddenly desperate for him to understand. “I love you…” she started, then trailed off, unable to go on. Spike’s face transformed. He grinned ear to ear.

“Oh, Buffy, I love you so much, too. You and the girls, going to take care of you forever.” He was beside her in a second, reaching for her.

Her heart hit the floor. She flinched away, and his hand paused mid-air. It was hard to breathe. “I love you, Spike, more than I can say, more than I ever imagined, but…I can’t… I can’t raise the girls with someone who’s a killer. It’s not right.” Her eyes rose to his shocked ones. “No matter how much…please, I think it’d be best if you go.” Her throat tightened.

He looked so confused. “Buffy, no…I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. “But I have to do what’s best for the girls. And that…I think maybe you should leave now.”  He stood there, his mouth hanging open. She felt like she was underwater and the world was far away and out of focus. “Please.” She waited, hoping Spike would have some way out of this, that he’d smile and tell her she was mistaken, that of course he wasn’t ending the life of other people’s children, or taking away moms and dads. Her hands twisted the material of her pants. She silently begged him to fix this, to keep them together.

Instead, Spike snapped his mouth closed and spun on his heel, his face thunderous as he returned to the bedroom, leaving her standing there alone. There was a flurry of noise and he exited, duffel bag in hand. His shoulders were hunched and he didn’t look at her as he grabbed his duster and slung it on. Buffy couldn’t move. She felt paralyzed as she watched him fish his car keys out of his pocket. She remembered their first morning together, when she’d woken up to find a stranger making her breakfast. Now that stranger would forever be a part of her.

One of the girls kicked and Buffy wrapped an arm around her middle. It seemed impossible that Spike wouldn’t be there when the girls were born. If only things were different. If only.

Spike was staring at the front door. Almost casually he turned to face her, fury twisting the face she loved into something almost unrecognizable. “You ungrateful fucking bitch. This is what I get for taking care of you? Worrying about you?” His voice was a low snarl.

Buffy stood rooted to the spot as his anger washed over her.

“You stupid, fat, fucking cow. I can’t believe I wasted my time on you. Thought I might get a decent fuck out of you, since obviously you don’t have a problem spreading your legs, but you couldn’t even give me that.”

Her heart shattered. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this.

“Would have been a pity shag, anyway. What bloke wants to bed a chit big as a whale with another man’s leavings?”

“Spike?” she whispered as her world undid itself. The ground under her feet disappeared and she was in free fall.

He laughed, his mouth twisting into a cruel rictus. “What? Don’t like the truth? Because you’ve known the bloody truth all along. I’m a vampire. That didn’t suddenly change. You’ve known and you’ve been fine with it until your little Watcher boy-toy put a bug in your ear. Then you suddenly got all high and mighty.” His eyes swirled gold for a moment before he shook it off.

Her hand went to the table for support as her knees trembled.

Spike took a step towards her and his head tilted to the side. His voice became ice. “I should never have bothered with you. You weren’t worth the effort. That first night? I should've just fucking killed you.”

For a second she could have sworn she saw a flash of horror pass over his features, but then it, and he, were gone. The dishes in the cabinet rattled as the door slammed shut. She was alone.

Buffy sank to the floor. He couldn’t have said…he didn’t mean…he was just hurting. The empty place where her heart had been ached unbearably and she clutched at her chest.

The tears started.

****

Spike started the DeSoto and roared out of the garage, heading for the highway.

How could she?

She’d bloody known. He was a vampire. He killed to feed, to stay strong so he could care for her. She hadn’t been complaining about getting her sodding apartment cleaned and her meals cooked.

The buggering bitch, telling him she loved him, only to send him away! For a moment, he’d nearly lost control of the demon, though the thing hadn’t wanted to hurt her, instead it’d been trying to force him back to her side to plead for her to reconsider, to figure something out. But doing that…he wouldn’t be him anymore. Buffy was right, leaving had been his only option.  The demon was still trying to surface, but Spike couldn’t for an instant let it through, because the ruddy thing would take him right back to her. It didn’t understand. Buffy didn’t want him.

He lasted twenty minutes on the highway before his rage faltered. He pulled off at the next exit, rolling to a stop under a low bridge. Rain was pouring down, hiding the world from view. Spike felt panic rising.  He’d left Buffy to walk to work in the rain. Only she didn’t want his help, did she? He was alone.

The wail started deep inside him, pushed up by a tide of despair. He keened out his loss, tears running unheeded down his face as he clutched blindly at the steering wheel.

She’d made him leave. She was his whole world and she’d made him leave.

****

The clock on the microwave said 9:30. Buffy needed to get to work. Her mind couldn’t seem to process anything. It felt like she was watching someone else as she stood, wiped away her tears, washed her face, and put her jacket on. She didn’t remember walking to work, but suddenly she was there, dripping water on the floor. It must have been raining.

“Buffy?” Willow’s hand was on her arm.

“How’s it going, Wils?” she asked automatically.

“Um, I’m fine, but you’re not.” She led Buffy to a chair and Buffy obediently sat. Willow disappeared for a second. When she came back, Wes was with her.

“Buffy?” Wes knelt down and took her hand. His fingers felt impossibly warm. “She’s freezing. Buffy? Can you hear me?”

Buffy nodded. She was sad, not deaf.

“What happened?”

“You’ll be proud of me,” she whispered. Doors in her mind slammed shut. This pain was her fault. She shut down, going numb.

“I will?” Wes asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. I told him I loved him and that he had to leave.” She met Wes’ gaze. “Aren’t you proud of me? No more vampire.”

Wes’ brows drew together. “He left?”

“He was really mad. I don’t think he loves me anymore.” You didn’t say things like that to someone you loved.

“He was probably just being stupid,” Willow said, her hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Guys are stupid.”

“Yeah.”

Lorne appeared from somewhere with a towel. It was warm, which was nice. He wrapped it around her head and rubbed at her hair.

“What’re we doing today, Wes?” Buffy asked. “Are you going to teach me to kill something else?”

“Buffy, I’m not sure…” He still looked confused.

She shook off his hand. “What? I thought you’d be happy. I love him and I made him go away.” She didn’t feel anything, because if she did, she knew she’d be sobbing.

Wes ran a hand over his face.

What was wrong with everybody? They were all just staring at her. Except for Lorne, who was still drying her hair.

“Babycakes, I don’t think you need any book work today.” Lorne said. He went to the bar and came back with a rag. “How about you wipe down tables? Wes can bus them, then you make sure they’re clean? Okay?”

That sounded like something she could do. “Okay.” She took the rag. Tara handed Wes a tub and after a second of looking surprised, he silently started loading a table full of dirty dishes into it. When he was done Buffy dutifully wiped down the table.  She lost track of time as the day went on. Clean table, change rag, clean another one. Wes and she worked together well, even though they didn’t say much. That was good, right?

Dawn and Anne were busy for most of the day, reminding her every time the sadness threatened to slip out from under the numbness, of why she had done what she did. Babies first. Heartaches got better. She hoped.

****

Spike knocked the liquor store’s security camera askew with a rock, broke the lock to the back door, and quickly disabled the alarm and other cameras. Then he filled the trunk of his car with booze and smokes. He drove east, towards the Cascades, pulling over at some two-bit roach motel. He threw the clerk enough money to pay for a week and grabbed the key.

The stricken look on his girl’s face as he said those terrible things to her was playing on repeat in his head.

Christ, why had he done that?

Even though she’d slammed a sledgehammer into his chest, it hadn’t meant he’d needed to run off at the mouth.

He hadn’t meant a word of it. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as Buffy with her twins growing inside her.

Now he was never going to see them again. Never hold Dawn or little Annie. Something caught in his throat as he sat down heavily on the cheap hotel bed. Buffy would change that now, wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t stick with a name given to her child by someone who said he wished he’d killed her, and by extension that baby.

Oh god, what had he done?

He opened the first bottle and drank it without stopping. The second and third went the same way. The fourth and fifth were slower, and so was his brain. He kept standing up, thinking he needed to make dinner, then realizing where he was and that there was no one to make dinner for. He’d sit back down, feel the tears threaten, drink, and repeat the whole process over again.

Sodding hell he was a fool.

The world went dark after the bottom of the sixth bottle.

****

Buffy hadn’t let anyone walk her home. It’d still been daylight, and she was fine.

In the apartment, which felt bigger than it ever had, she poured herself a glass of milk and drank it. She knew she should probably eat, but rummaging through the fridge or cabinets felt like it would take too much energy. She stood in the shower for a while, but afterwards couldn’t remember if she washed her hair. She pulled a pair of pajamas on that were hanging over the towel bar. They might be clean. In the living room she stood, unable to decide what to do. Eventually she lay down on the futon, on her side, facing Spike’s empty spot.

She couldn’t stand how vacant it was. A great big giant hole where Sp…where he used to be. She fished around on the floor and came up holding the anthology of French poetry he’d been reading. Carefully, she sat it down on his side of the bed, making sure not to disturb the bookmark so he wouldn’t lose his place.

Dawn and Anne were awake. Buffy put her hands on her belly as she lay back down.

“It’s okay. Mommy’s okay.” Lie, lie, big fat lie. “It’s okay to be sad. I knew I was going to be sad.” Sad, yes, completely devastated, no. When Riley had dumped her, he’d said some pretty disgusting stuff to her too–apparently, she just had that kind of face–and she’d been upset. Angry. But it’d taken her less than a week to find a new place to live and a job.

It hadn’t felt like her world was ending.

And, dang it, she shouldn’t feel that way now. Having someone that ate people raise babies with you was not okay.

Even if they were handsome, considerate, funny, smart, protective, strong, and good kissers.

_I should of fucking killed you._

“He didn’t mean it, babies.” The numbness disappeared and the tears started again. “Daddy didn’t mean it.”

****

Spike woke up in the dark. He still had his duster on. Why did he still have his duster on?

“Buffy?” he called woozily.

His head was spinning like a bloody top. He stood up, but his legs tangled together and he ended up in a heap on the floor. What was going on? Where was she? She made everything better. The demon whined and tried to surge forward, but he wouldn’t let it. There was some reason it wasn’t supposed to get the upper hand right now. It pouted and he was treated to a barrage of mental images, mostly sexual ones of Buffy. Her on her knees in front of him, big green eyes locked on him as she sucked him off. Buffy, lying on the bed, thighs wide apart and fingering her own hole while she beckoned to him. Buffy staring deep into his eyes while he slid his cock into her, her sweet lips telling him how much she loved him…

Yes, god damn it, he wanted her. The demon seemed to be trying to convince him that if he set it free Buffy would be under him in two seconds, but he couldn’t. The first time he was with her it would be as a man making love to the women that meant more to him than anything…he needed to see her sweet face right this instant.

“Buffy?” he called again.

Where was she?

He shakily got to his feet, took a step forward, and kicked an empty bottle that rolled away to clink against the wall.

Everything came rushing back. He wasn’t home. Buffy wasn’t here.

She’d told him to get out of her life.

He went to his knees, pain clawing at his insides. This wasn’t like losing Drusilla. That’d hurt, but this— this was like a nuclear bomb had gone off under his feet.

“Love you,” he sobbed. “Love you, love you, love you.” He crawled to where the full whiskey bottles were piled and opened another, gulping it down. He drank until the darkness closed in again.

****

Buffy got up, went to work, came home, stood in the shower, and went to sleep. Then she did it the next day. And the next. That day she even fake smiled so people would stop asking if she was doing okay. Wes had her do some easy exercises to start strengthening her arms. The mindless activity felt good.

The weekend passed. She threw the newspapers delivered to her door in the trash without looking at them.

When Xander called her at home to check on her, she’d asked him polite questions about his job. She thought she’d even sounded cheerful.

She was 23 weeks pregnant and felt every minute of it. She’d expected to be this big at the end, not with her whole third trimester to go.

Monday found her back at work with a headache. Wes had her sit with a stack of books. He both asked and answered questions about their content. Her Watcher had seemed to age since last week. He kept looking at her like she was about to fall apart. Maybe she wasn’t doing as good a job at hiding her feelings as she thought.

On Tuesday, he sat beside her. “I know you’re not doing okay,” he said, hand on her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Buffy replied, even pulling her lips into a smile to show him.

“Are you eating enough?” Wes asked gruffly.

“Of course I am!” She pushed out a laugh and patted her belly. Actually, she couldn’t remember if she’d had breakfast, let alone dinner. Her head still hurt and she felt a little muddled. She knew she’d finished that last of her favorite cereal and drank all the milk, but there was no one to drive to Target and get more. Maybe on Saturday she could take the bus. Buffy sighed. That sounded like a plan. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

Wes’ mouth twisted. “I’m just worried about you. I…I’m sorry, Buffy. Maybe, I don’t know…perhaps there was another way.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She patted his hand. “I’m sad. I miss him, but eventually I’ll get better. Thank you for worrying about me.”

“You’re welcome,” Wes said roughly. His eyes focused back on the book she was studying. “Now if you turn to page 256…”

****

Spike didn’t know what day it was, nor what time.

He stayed on the floor, because waking up on the bed meant he would panic at not being able to find Buffy, and like a bloody wanker he’d call for her over and over until he remembered she wasn’t there.

He hadn’t the first sodding clue what he was going to do when the booze ran out.

He twisted another cap off and drank, not even tasting whatever it was, not caring, so long as it made reality go away.

****

Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, saw Buffy helping Anya serve a larger than usual lunch rush. The place was closed tomorrow, but Buffy and the others had been invited to come and have a Thanksgiving meal there. Willow was going to bring Xander, who still thought they were playing some joke on him about the whole ‘demon world’, so that should be fun.  

Buffy was almost looking forward to it. She’d spent last Thanksgiving with Riley, an awkward affair where she’d cooked while his mother had looked on and criticized her and the food the entire time. Sometimes she wondered what Riley had said to his parents about their breakup. Probably nothing that involved the word ‘grandchild’.

After the lunch rush was done, Wes took her to the back. He was showing her a few blunt weapons and was explaining their uses to her when Buffy’s ever-present headache kicked up a notch.

She frowned and put her hand to her head, blinked, and found herself sitting on the floor.

“Buffy?” an alarmed Wes asked, but it sounded like he was at the far end of a tunnel.

She couldn’t reply as a pain cinched down tight around her middle, it let up a moment, then returned, making her cry out. When it let go again she looked at Wes, more frightened than she’d ever been. “Dawn, Anne…help!”

There was a flurry of activity she couldn’t keep track of. Clem appeared, picked her up in strong arms, and carried her to the front of the bar. There was an ambulance with hypnotic blue and red lights. Wes was saying he was her brother and she nodded when one of the paramedics asked her if she’d like him to come with them.

There was a pinch in her arm, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her head and stomach. She held her hand out and Wes grabbed it. She lost track of things for a while, but came back to herself as the ambulance hit a pothole, the pain making her cry out. There was still a hand holding hers. She focused on Wes’ pale face, but he wasn’t who she wanted, not when she was so scared.

She made her mouth work. “Spike!”


	13. Blood

I take a walk outside

                -Pearl Jam, “Black”

****

The booze eventually ran out. Too emotionally exhausted to bother draining the hotel clerk, Spike threw the room key at him and pulled out of the motel’s gravel parking lot, only to stop on the shoulder a mile down the road. He sat behind the wheel of his car, lighting a cigarette. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He could just end it. Take the ring off and let the sun have him. Only, like after Dru died, he had the nagging feeling that he wasn’t done. That being so much dust wasn’t what he was meant for.

He’d bloody well thought he was meant to take care of Buffy and the girls.

It was Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. Late enough in the evening that he needed to flick the DeSoto’s headlights on. There was a week of lost time behind him.  He wondered briefly what Buffy was doing. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing himself replaced. Maybe not by that Watcher­–she hadn’t seemed keen on the chap that way–but by someone else, maybe someone a little like him. A blond guy, probably taller than him, well built, and with that all important heartbeat. A guy who wouldn’t be all mixed up with ideas of love and sodding romance and would be quick to take care of her sexual needs. She was probably rolling around with this guy right now, moaning while the berk pawed at her like a blind, demented kitten.

Spike inhaled sharply. Right, no crying. He pulled onto the road, heading through town.

Irony of ironies, in his stupor he’d managed to stop in Enumclaw, the town she’d said she grew up in. 

He cruised slowly through the streets, trying, and failing, to not imagine a young Buffy eating at that ice cream parlor or standing under those trees and chatting with a friend. At last he drove past what must be the high school. ‘Go Hornets!’ read the school sign. Spike pulled over and got out.

All of Buffy’s silly stories of her year here were running through his head. In a different life she’d have graduated from here last spring and gone onto college, instead of finding herself pregnant by the kind of scum that’d rather run than face responsibility.

He walked past the main building of the school, which was deserted as all the kiddies and teachers were home preparing for the big day tomorrow. He wandered towards the football field. The gym looked much newer than the other buildings. There must have been insurance money to rebuild with after Buffy had burned down the old one. He peered through a window. Trophies sat in a case and one wall was filled with framed photographs of the cheerleading squad from various years. He found the picture with the right year, and sure enough, in the front row there was Buffy, looking chipper and carefree.

His chest ached for the girl in that picture.

His own last words to her choked him and he spun away. Leaning back against the glass, he pulled a smoke from his pocket and lit it with shaking fingers. _Puisque j'ai vu pleurer, puisque j'ai vu sourire._

Stiff legged he walked to the field and sat on the cold metal bleachers. The grass on the field was dead and brown; it’d gone to mud on some places. He smoked his cig down to the butt, lit another off it, and lay back so he was staring at the sky. He wrapped his duster tight around himself, though the freezing wind didn’t really bother him.

It made him feel alone.

Buffy was a furnace, the heat had radiated from her. By the morning of every night he’d spent with her, even he’d been deliciously warm. It was something he’d never known before her, a simple pleasure he’d never imagined. Dru had been the same temperature as him and he’d never had a reason to sleep the night through with anyone else before Buffy. It been one of the millions of reasons he’d treasured every moment with her.

She’d said she’d loved him.

And he’d opened his big mouth and threw it right back in her face.

He was an idiot.

Buffy had asked nothing of him. She hadn’t screamed or demanded he quit killing. She’d calmly told him that what they had wouldn’t work because of what he was.

What really hurt was that she was right.

He wouldn’t want him raising his children. Spike blew out a long stream of smoke towards the night sky. “Why yes, Annie, I got peckish and drained your little friend. Sorry,” he muttered to himself. It sounded terrible all around, a blood sucking demon shepherding two young women through childhood.

Pain clenched him. It didn’t matter what a sodding awful idea it was, he wanted his girls. He craved Buffy in a fathomless, indescribable way.  He needed her tucked up against him, safe and sound, the pitter-patter of the Dawn and Anne’s heartbeats underscoring the steady thump of Buffy’s.

His fingers trembled and he dropped the end of his smoke. “Bloody hell,” he snapped, letting the irritation keep him from breaking down over other things he’d lost.

Spike crossed his arms over his chest, feeling every inch the dead thing he was. He focused on the stars and tried to see the way forward. He’d cross over the Cascade Mountains and then head south to Nevada. He’d hit up Vegas and have a grand ole time draining the tourists. Maybe he’d seduce a showgirl or two to keep him warm…

His stomach roiled and the demon panicked. It fought to come forward and Spike sat up, gasping. “Would you cease? he snapped. “I know there’s going to be no sodding Vegas and no bloody showgirls. There’s no future for us at all if Buffy’s not in it.”

He froze.

There was his answer.

She hadn’t asked him to change, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t. He lay back down. Right. No more hunting and killing. He waited, but the demon was quiet.

Drinking animal blood out of a cup, he tried. The damn thing didn’t even stir.

He was going to have to turn white hat and probably help the chit learn how to be a Slayer. Still nothing. That wasn’t fair. Shouldn’t the bloody thing at least feel disgruntled?

Though, honestly, everything inside him seemed to be smoothing out. He’d made his choice.

There was still the problem that Buffy might have found herself another bloke. That made the demon twitchy. Maybe the no killing rule could have one teensy addendum.

Spike lit another cigarette and this time his hands were steady. _Ta bouche sur ma bouche et tes yeux sur mes yeux._

Spike let himself wallow in memories of what he was giving up. Blood that had flowed in rivers and fountains, warm and lush, down his throat. The thrill of the hunt, the joy of the kill. But the memories paled and fled as his mind circled back again and again to the taste of Buffy’s lips and the feel of her soft skin. To the promise of love and family that she offered.

He hungered for her in an overwhelming way that made him almost afraid of the feeling.

He stared at the night sky, exhausted. Being black-out drunk wasn’t the same as resting. Sleep caught up with him. The next time he opened his eyes he had a cold cigarette butt between his fingers and morning light was streaking across the sky. He watched as the sun rose behind the mountains, the snowcapped peak of Mt. Rainer going from shadows to pink, then yellow, then blazing white.

It was a new day, the one that marked start of a new life. He’d left the dark behind. That had belonged to Drusilla.

The light, the future, and he all belonged to Buffy.  

****

A cheery bell jingled as Spike walked into the butcher’s shop. The sign on the door read they’d be open early Thanksgiving for last minute shoppers and turkey pickup. The cases were neat and clean and the walls decorated with wood carvings that depicted animals and where the different cuts of meat came from on them. Spike was momentarily thrown, his mind dredging up a memory of the Sunday night beef roasts he’d once looked forward to. There’d been vegetables in sauce, and…

He shook his head. That’d been a long time ago…would Buffy like roast beef? He quirked his lips to the side, thinking.  

The customer at the counter left and Spike nervously stuck his hands in his pockets as he stepped forward. “Uh, I was­-“

“You’ll need to go around back, son,” the owner, a bearded man in his late fifties, said, gesturing with his chin towards the wall. Spike looked and saw a mirror he hadn’t noticed earlier. Sighing, he nodded and walked quickly around to the alley that ran behind the butcher’s place. A door opened and the owner stood there, Styrofoam cup in hand. The guy looked like he’d never really left the sixties. He had a tie-dye shirt on under his apron, and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees.

“How much?” Spike asked, kicking at the uneven pavement.

“Eight bucks. I even warmed it for you. It looks like it’s been a while since you’ve had a meal.”

Spike dug a tenner out and handed it over. “Keep the change, mate.” He took the cup and popped the lid off.  It stank of pig.

“You’ve been around a while, haven’t you?” the guy asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“Yeah,” Spike said, staring at the blood. “Was at Woodstock.”

“Cool! So was I!”

“Weird gig, that.”

“That it was, that it was.” The owner frowned at Spike. “You going to drink that or just stare at it?”

“I don’t know,” Spike said. It felt like much more than just slurping pig-swill out of a cup. If he did this, there was no going back. It would be the final nail in the coffin, so to speak.  

“Haven’t done this before, have you?” the owner asked and Spike slowly shook his head. “It’s not going to taste real good, won’t lie. It’s not like I know myself, but I’ve heard the story more than once.” He paused.  “I’ve got just one question for you, though.”

Spike look up at the guy, who was smiling lopsidedly. “What’s that?” Spike asked, confused.

“Is she worth it?”

Spike’s nostril flared and then he was gulping down the pig’s blood. It wasn’t anything like human blood from the vein, but that didn’t matter if it gave him Buffy back.

The owner chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“How’d you know it was a girl?” Spike muttered.

“Dude, with the way you’re looking it had to be a girl. Wait here, I’ll get you another cup on the house.”

Spike stood still, trying to decide how he felt with pig blood in his belly. He was less hungry. The demon didn’t seem to care, it was desperate to be on the road heading towards Buffy.

The owner reappeared and handed another cup to him. “I crumbled a little burba weed in there, it can help cover the taste. So what happened?”

“She kicked me out. She told me she loved me and told me to get out.” Spike sniffed at the blood. The smell was a little better. “Miss her so much I can’t stand it. I can’t…nothing makes sense. I can’t even watch TV! We used to watch TV together. She likes all those reality TV shows that you can tell are obviously not real­­­­-”

“Bottoms up, son,” the owner said kindly. Spike upended the cup and drank the blood quickly, handing the empty back.

“And now she’s probably forgotten all about me! I thought we had something.”

The owner chuckled. “Slow your roll there. How long ago did she put you out of doors?”

“A week?”

“This woman told you she loved you a week ago? And asked you to leave because of your diet?”

Spike nodded morosely.

“Son, you’re an idiot.”

“Hey. I-“

“Listen to me. However broke up you’ve been feeling, she’s probably been ten times worse off.”

Spike felt like gravity had just been flipped. “What?”

“I doubt she said that to you lightly. Extenuating circumstances, I’m guessing?”

“She was pregnant when I met her.”

“Ah, there you go.” The owner pursed his lips. “You were planning on raising the kid with her?”

“Twin girls. Yes. I wanted a family, back before I was…I still do.”

“She did it for them. Probably shattered her. Wait just one more minute.” He disappeared inside again.

Spike stood, trying to wrap his mind around what the owner had said. It seemed impossible. If Buffy was hurting anywhere near as much as he was… He couldn’t bear the thought, because the amount of pain he was in was astronomical. The idea that Buffy was feeling anything like that…

The owner reappeared and handed a bag to Spike. “One more for the road. I put some stuff in there to keep it from clotting.”

“T-thank you,” Spike stammered. He grabbed another bill out of his pocket and shoved it into the owner’s hand. “I gotta go now. Gotta get to her.”

“Wait, son, this is a fifty-” But Spike was already around the corner. He had to get back, make sure Buffy was alright. And maybe she’d forgive him. He’d show her the blood, explain he’d do anything for another chance to be with her. His hands gripped the wheel of the DeSoto fiercely as he started the car. The fuel gauge showed empty. It made him irrationally angry because it was one more thing in the way.

Bugger.

****

Wes ate mechanically. There was a Styrofoam container sitting next to his plate. It was full of food he was going to take to Buffy once dinner was over. He hoped she was doing better than when he’d been asked to leave last night at the end of visiting hours. Her physician had phoned and said that it’d simply been dehydration and that Buffy and the babies were fine and could go home Friday.

But all Wes could see was the sad, broken girl in the back of the ambulance who’d asked over and over again for the thing…man she loved.

Wes had told the paramedics she was calling for her dog.

Most of the rest of the people who’d gathered at The Sun Thief for Thanksgiving dinner were occupied with Willow’s friend Xander, who was having a hard time computing the whole demon thing. Though the shock didn’t seem to have dampened the kid’s appetite any.

Wes supposed the meal was excellent. Clem really had outdone himself. Hopefully it’d be tempting enough that Buffy would eat some. It had to be better than whatever swill the hospital was serving, anyway.

The door to the bar banged open and Wes dropped his fork as the last person he expected to see stumbled in. Spike stood just inside the entryway, clutching a paper bag like his life depended on it. He looked rough: thin and pale with his clothes dirty and in disarray. His hair was a curly, lopsided mess, like he hadn’t combed it in a week. His gaze meandered around the room and he cleared his throat.

“Is Buffy here? She wasn’t at the apartment and I don’t have my key…” Spike trailed off. “Is she here?”

Wes stood and hesitantly made his way over to the vampire, who smelled like stale cigarette smoke and booze, though Wes didn’t think Spike was drunk at the moment. He looked and sounded lost. The vampire’s eyes worked their way over the tables and booths, like Buffy might be hiding under one of them.

“Is Buffy here?” he asked again.

“Uh, Spike,” Wesley tried out. The vampire’s gaze turned to him. Wes felt strange. The look in the creature’s eyes mirrored Buffy’s from the last week. Those were emotions no vampire should have. Something twisted in Wes’ stomach. It was starting to be obvious Spike wasn’t like most vampires.

Spike looked down at the bag he was holding. “Going to change. No killing. See?” He held the bag out. “Butcher’s blood. Going to make it right, show her I can be her man. Is she here?”

“Spike…” Wes swallowed. “Um, Buffy’s in the hospital.”

Spike’s legs abruptly folded under him and the vamp sat down with an agonized cry. Oh, christ, Wes had no idea what to do with a sobbing vampire. He looked over at the table, where everyone was still seated, but all eating had come to a standstill as they watched the drama unfold.

Wes squatted down and put a hand on Spike’s shoulder.

“Dawn…Anne…” Spike gasped out.

Wes’ heart lurched and the world made even less sense. The thing that was supposed to be an uncaring monster was asking about Buffy’s unborn twins.

“They’re okay, all of them,” Wes said quietly. Spike dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders shook as he wept. It was disconcerting.  “Buffy was just dehydrated­­­­­-” Spike wailed like he’d been stabbed. “How about we go see her?” Wes asked with a sigh.

Spike looked up sharply. “Yeah?”

Wes nodded. “I’ll drive.”  He stood and after a moments deliberation, in which Buffy’s wan face from the back of the ambulance floated before his eyes, Wes held out his hand to help the vampire to his feet. Spike accepted his help and also grabbed the paper bag with the blood in it from the floor where it’d been dropped earlier. Lorne appeared at Wes’ elbow, holding out the container with the food for Buffy. Wes accepted it silently and ushered the vampire out the door. There was a black monstrosity of a car sitting halfway on the sidewalk, the driver’s side door open and the engine idling.

Spike walked around to the passenger side and got in. Wes stared. It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was shining down. Wes got in, shoved the container of food into Spike’s hands, ground the gears, and finally managed to get the car headed towards Harborview Hospital. “So, sunlight?” Wes got the courage to ask after a few minutes.

“Gem of Amara,” Spike said absently as he stared straight ahead. Wes’ mind whirled. The Gem was a fairy tale, or apparently not. He glanced uneasily at the vampire beside him, who looked like he was still fighting back tears. Why would a nearly invincible vampire want nothing more than the chance to…love a young woman and the children she carried? Wes had the sinking feeling that what the Council had told him about vampires might be just as wrong as everything else that had come from them. Spike’s haunted eyes left the windscreen to look at him. “Do you think she’s going to want to see me? Does she have someone else already? Couldn’t tell from the hallway outside the apartment.”

Wes’s jaw dropped. Oh, wonderful, now he was the invincible vampire’s therapist. “Yes. I think she’s going to want to see you. When she was confused on the way to the hospital she kept asking for you.” Spike trembled like a leaf. “And if you think she’s been traipsing around with some other guy for the last week you’re insane.” Wes thought it might be himself that was crazy, driving a vampire, in said vampire’s car, to the hospital to see his potential, because Wes had the idea that neither of them did okay without the other. “You’re really going to stop…killing people?”

“Do anything if she’ll let me be with her,” Spike muttered and Wes was taken aback by the sheer desperation that rolled off the vampire. It was impossible for Wes not to believe him, which was in itself frightening. There was a pause, then Spike growled. “Can’t you drive any bloody faster?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> from Since I have touched my lips... (par Victor Hugo)  
> Puisque j'ai vu pleurer, puisque j'ai vu sourire = Since I've seen crying, since I've seen smiling  
> Ta bouche sur ma bouche et tes yeux sur mes yeux= Your mouth on my mouth and your eyes on my eyes


	14. Ham

As long as she stays with me

                -Nirvana, “Molly’s Lips”

****

Lifting the lid off what the hospital called “Thanksgiving Dinner” one more time in the hopes that maybe it wouldn’t look quite so bad, Buffy wrinkled her nose. She slammed the lid back down. At least the green jello hadn’t been terrible. She reminded herself it was her fault she was sitting alone in a hospital room, in a tacky gown, instead of at The Sun Thief with everyone else and enjoying Clem’s cooking.

“Hi!” exclaimed a painfully cheery voice.

“Hi, Fred,” Buffy said as she forced herself to smile. Fred bustled into the room, dumping a clipboard on the counter and pulling a stethoscope from around her neck. Buffy leaned forward and patiently waited as Fred listened to her lungs, then leaned back so the doctor could listen to her heart.

“It all sounds good. How was the turkey?”

“I don’t know, but the jello was great.”

Fred frowned. “Buffy, you need to eat more than that.”

“I know…I…it doesn’t smell very good.”

Fred lifted the lid on the food, made a face, and quickly replaced the cover. “Okay, I’ll excuse you on that one.”

“Look, um…when I go home I’m going to ask my friend Willow to come and live with me for a while. She’ll make sure I get enough to eat and drink.” Buffy ran a hand over her belly. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just…forgot.”

Fred was standing with her arms crossed. “Well, you’re lucky. Both Dawn and Anne are doing fine, and so is Mom, but you missed an appointment and-”

She was interrupted as Wes knocked on the open door and entered the room. He stopped short and blinked at the obstetrician before holding out his hand. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Wesley, Buffy’s…er…brother.”

“Fred, I’m her doctor.” They shook and then stood there, hands still clasped, blinking owlishly at one another. Buffy giggled and it broke the spell. Wes dropped Fred’s hand and his ears turned slightly pink.

“I was just saying to Buffy-“ Fred started.

“How’s she doing, we’ve all-“ Wes said at the same time. They both paused and awkwardly found parts of the wall to look at.

“Is that Clem’s cooking?” Buffy said, eyeing the container Wes was carrying.

“Oh, yes, Lorne made sure to pack you some.” Wes handed her the take-out container and Buffy popped the top. It smelled way better than the hospital food, but she still found herself less than hungry. Which sucked, she was sure it all tasted wonderful.  

“Tell them thanks,” she said and carefully set the food on the bedside table.

Fred put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “You need to eat some of that.”

Wes sighed. “She does. Luckily, I found someone who will make sure at least some of it ends up in her stomach.” Wes looked at the door and raised his voice. “If he would grow a pair and get his arse in here.”

Buffy drew her brows together. Who the hell would Wes have brought…

 A man hesitantly walked through the door. Black boots, black coat, bleached blond hair, blue eyes, scarred eyebrow. She could see all the pieces but it took a moment for her brain to put it together. “Spike,” she whispered. He was nervously clutching a paper bag and the look of naked fear on his face was unmistakable as his eyes swept over her.

She held out her arms to him and he immediately rushed for her. After the first step his eyes flashed gold and his face shifted to that of the demon. Dimly, Buffy was aware of Fred giving a startled cry and jumping back, but then nothing mattered except that Spike was in her arms. He pushed her down against her bed, his hands running over her and his lips raining kisses on her face and neck.

Her arms wrapped around him under his duster, her fingers digging into his back.

“Hey, how about I treat you to a terrible coffee from the vending machines?” Wes said from very far away. He must be talking to Fred.

“But…what was…I saw…?” Fred sounded like she’d just had the rug pulled out from under her.

“Coffee,” Wes said firmly. There was the sound of the hospital room’s door closing.

“I’m sorry,” Spike was muttering against Buffy’s neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His mouth worked its way up her throat until his lips met hers and they were kissing and, oh god, it was heaven. For a moment there were fangs, but they disappeared as her tongue circled his. One of her hands went to his hair, but she was met with a tangle she couldn’t get her fingers into. Panting, she broke the kiss and stared up at his face.

What the hell had happened to him?

He looked terrible, hollow cheeked and wild eyed. His hair was greasy and uncombed, his clothes wrinkled, and he really didn’t smell that great. All together he seemed not okay.

But then she hadn’t been either.

Jeeze, what a pair they were.

Buffy was at a loss. She knew she couldn’t bear to ask him to leave a second time, but the same problem was there as before.

Abruptly, Spike sat up and pulled her so she was sitting too. He shoved the paper bag he’d been carrying into her hands. “I brought this for you.”

 She opened the bag and pulled out a Styrofoam cup. Popping the top, she looked down at it. “Um…you brought me blood?”

“Yes! Well, no. To show you!”

“To show me what?”

“It’s pig, from a butcher’s shop, I can live on that. No hunting. See?”

Emotions too big for her to name rolled over her. “Spike, I…I can’t ask you to change like that, to be something that you aren’t.”

“But you didn’t!” There was pride in his voice. “I chose. I chose you and the girls and oh, Buffy, I love you so much, please…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it…” His face crumpled. It took her a minute to realize he was talking about what he’d said when he left.

She set the cup of blood next to her Thanksgiving dinner. “I know that,” she whispered. She took a deep breath and lost the battle with her own tears. “Never go away again.”

“Never.” He lay down beside her and pulled her against him. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed while he did the same against the top of her head. “Dawn and…Annie?” he finally managed to get out. “It is still Anne?”

“What?” She looked up at his pained face. “Of course it’s Anne. You named her Anne.”

“I thought…after what I said…I’d understand if you didn’t want to…anymore.”

“Don’t be silly. And they’re both doing fine. I just sort of, um, forgot to eat and, uh, drink enough. For a couple days.”

Fresh tears spilled down Spike’s face. “It’s my fault,” he whimpered. “I was stupid and it’s my fault you’re here and I promise­–“

She put her hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault.” Gradually, Spike sagged against the mattress of the hospital bed and she risked removing her hand. She didn’t know if he believed her, but his tears had stopped and so had hers. “No blame game,” she said firmly. “I love you, you love me, and we’ll figure it out from there, okay?”

“Okay.” He reached out and rested his hand on her belly. “Only a week…but I feel like I missed so much. I can tell they’re bigger.”

She put her hand over his. “You’re not allowed to miss anything else.”

Dawn and Anne had woken up and were busy playing, completely oblivious to what their mom was going through. Spike hunched up and put his cheek against her stomach, laughing when Dawn landed a kick right on him. “Hey now, Daddy knows he messed up.”

Buffy felt like she might start crying again. He was the girls’ father, genetics be damned. Hope was flowing in rivers through her. Spike had figured out how they could all be together. It seemed like such a huge thing, him fundamentally changing his nature, but she couldn’t help herself, she trusted him. If he said he wouldn’t kill, then he wouldn’t kill.

He was whispering to the girls, most of which she couldn’t make out, though she caught more than one ‘love you’ and a promise he’d take them for pony rides when they turned five. She rubbed at the little hairs on the back of Spike’s neck, content with being close to him. Sleep had nearly taken over when Spike poked her cheek.

“Wake up, you need to eat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your stomach’s growling.”

“I can’t feel it.”

“I can hear it. C’mon.” He helped her sit up and handed her the take-out container with the food Clem had made.

“You first,” she said, pouting.

He grabbed the cup of blood with a smile.

“Wait, that’s pig blood?” she asked.

Spike nodded. “Yeah, Wilbur at his finest.”

Well, she could have done without that visual. She poked the plastic tines of her fork through a piece of ham and held it up. “To us?”

Spike’s smile widened. “To us.” He downed the cup of blood and she bit off a hunk of the ham. Which was freaking delicious. Suddenly, she was ravenous. The ham, turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and rolls all disappeared quickly, even if it was kind of cold.  Spike was reclining on an elbow, watching her eat with an amused look on his face.

“It’s good,” she said defensively.

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed.  “You’re pretty.”

Buffy melted.

****

Wes dropped several dollars worth of change into the coffee vending machine. He ordered himself a tea, ending up with a bag of questionable pedigree and a cup full of hot water. “And for the lady?” he asked, sneaking a glance at the woman standing next to him. Her eyes were still wide and her face pale. Nothing like seeing a demon to put someone in shock.

“Uh, mocha, please,” she said after a minute. Wes pressed the button and the machine started chugging. Fred’s hands went to her hips as she turned and glared at him. “Are you going to explain that?”

“Well…” He didn’t know what to say. The machine finished dispensing the drink and he carefully handed the cup to the physician. “Can we sit down?”

“Fine,” she snapped, some of the color returning to her cheeks. She led him to an isolated table in the far corner of the hospital’s dining area. “Now talk. Or I’ll have security throw you out. You are obviously not Buffy’s older brother. I’d hazard a guess you two weren’t even born on the same continent.”

“Right.” He sipped his awful tea. “What do you think you saw?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh no, I don’t think so, mister. No weather balloons, or mass hysteria, or whatever BS you want to feed me. I’m not an idiot. I know what I saw. Truth. Now.”

“There’s no going back,” Wes said quietly.

Fred’s lips pursed. “That bad?”

“That bad.”

“Okay. I can’t pretend. Tell me.” Her slumped posture did more to reassure Wes than anything else. Fred was already accepting the world might not be how she’d thought it was, and she seemed like the kind of person who would rather know the gory details than be spared.

“There’s creatures besides humans that we share the world with. Demons.”

Her brows drew together.

“Don’t try to make it fit into some religious context. They’re just beings, creatures. Spike is…well, not to put too fine a point on it, but he’s a vampire. And yes, blood drinking creature of the night, though I think he’s at least trying to move past some of that.”

Fred was biting her bottom lip. “For Buffy?”

“Yes, For Buffy.”

“Is she some kind of demon, too?”

Wes took another drink of tea to give himself a moment. “Not exactly. There is a girl chosen from among all the others on the planet to fight against the powers of darkness. She is known as the Slayer. Buffy isn’t that girl, or not yet, anyway, she just has the potential to be the one.”

Fred digested that. “And that makes you what, exactly?”

“I was trained to guide potentials and the Slayer, if needs be. The term is Watcher. I’m Buffy’s Watcher, but even to me that sounds slightly off.” He chuckled. “Since I didn’t know she was living with a vampire, I probably am not about to win the Watcher of the Year award.”

“How did they end up together?”

Wes snorted. “That’s a very good question.” He drummed the fingers of one hand on the tabletop and watched Fred as she struggled to make the world make sense again. Her wrists were lovely. Wes blinked. Oh no…had something infected him during the car ride? He didn’t need to be…

Fred looked up at him with beseeching eyes. “I still don’t think it makes sense.”

He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “I know. When do you get off shift?”

“Now, actually. Buffy was my last patient. I just need to dictate my report.”

“How about you take me for drinks?” Wes couldn’t believe his own daring. “I drove Spike’s car here and eventually he’ll need to leave…Though come to think of it, with him to watch over her, could you go ahead and discharge Buffy?”

Fred blinked. “Drinks…yes, I think I’d like that. And I suppose there’s no reason to keep her. I’ll enter those orders. Do you have a place in mind?”

“My usual haunt is closed tonight; do you know of anywhere?”

“Like all good medical personnel, I of course know a bar that’s open twenty-four seven.” She gave him a hint of a smile. “And after all that truth, I think I really need a drink.”

****

Buffy tried to insist she could walk up the three flights of stairs to the apartment. Spike didn’t sodding care whether or not she could, or if she could sprout wings and fly. He was going to carry her. Her protests died down once he scooped her up. Her arm went around his neck and she sighed and relaxed against him.

The broken elevator made him glower. Not because she was heavy–he could have easily carried her up three hundred flights–but because Buffy was getting to a point in her pregnancy where she didn’t need to be navigating steps she couldn’t see. Spike figured he’d start with knocking around the vamp that came to collect rent. If that didn’t accomplish anything, Spike would escalate right to the top. Mr. Trick wasn’t one for getting his hands dirty, he wouldn’t want Spike making noise. That should result in a fixed elevator right quick just so Mr. Trick wouldn’t have to deal with him.

When they reached the apartment, Spike adjusted his grip so he could unlock the door. Once inside, his jaw dropped. The place was a mess. “Oh, Buffy,” he said, petting her back.

“Mmm,” she sleepily mumbled against his shoulder. He made his way to the futon and gently set her on her feet.  There was a pile of junk on his side of the bed. His eyebrows shot up when he figured out what the haphazard assortment of stuff was: it was all things that belonged to him. The book he’d been reading, a black hair comb, an unopened beer bottle, clothes he’d left behind, including the random dirty socks he had a tendency to take off and leave under the futon while they were watching TV.

His heart broke at the evidence of how much she’d missed him. From the pile he pulled a clean-looking t-shirt. “Turn around,” he gruffly told her. She complied and he pulled her shirt over her head, sucking in a breath as her back was exposed. He managed not to run a finger down the length of her spine, but instead put the t-shirt over her head and helped her tug it down. His hands lingered over her belly. “Pants and shoes,” he said into her hair. She quickly complied and he helped her to lay down. When he went to walk to the other side of the bed she made a sad noise and reached for him. “Shh,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

He moved the stuff from the bed to the floor and cuddled up next to her. With a contented sigh, she relaxed against him and was soon asleep. Spike let his demon come to the fore. He sniffed her hair, relishing in all the tiny nuances of her scent. Dawn and Anne were awake. As they kicked and pushed against their mother, Spike delighted in pushing back against their little feet and hands. Come hell or high water he was going to be there for them from the second they were born.

When the twins quieted back down and Buffy was in a deep slumber, he carefully detangled himself from her and stood up. He opened the fridge door and guilt hit him like a freight train. The shelves were almost empty. No milk, juice, yogurt, or fruits and veggies that weren’t spoiled. He wrinkled his nose and shook off his demon. No need to smell the stink any more intensely than he had to. The chicken he’d defrosted the night before he’d left was still in a drawer. Glad he didn’t need to breathe, he pulled it out and tossed it in the trash, then quickly cleaned out the drawer.

The cupboards were mostly devoid of anything to make a meal with as well, and dishes were piled in the sink. Spike shook his head. He’d been imagining his girl laughing at him and already having another man to keep her company. What an idiot he’d been. She must have been torn to shreds by what he’d said. She’d given him his heart and…

Spike braced his hands on either side of the sink and fought to calm his nerves. He was here now. She obviously wanted him here. There was no taking back his words so he simply was going to have to spend the next forever making up for them. He could do that, and it could start now.

He worked as quietly as he could, washing dishes, putting clothes in the hamper, sweeping, taking the garbage out. The last one was done in record time, but Buffy was still sleeping, curled on her side with her head resting on her hand, when he came back. Dust bunnies were quickly exterminated and the countertops were freed of crumbs.

After putting up the dustpan under the sink he tried to run his hand through his hair, and couldn’t. He poked at the mess on the top of his head. Damn, it was nothing but blasted curls. It was almost a relief he couldn’t see himself in the mirror. He ran down and grabbed his duffle from the car, pulled out his pajama bottoms, and jumped in the shower. It took an embarrassing amount of conditioner to get rid of the snarls. 

Clean, and with his hair combed, he turned off the lights and lay down next to his girl. She patted his chest with one hand. “Spike?”

“Right here,” he soothed as he slipped an arm around her.

“Okay, wuv you,” she mumbled.

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Wuv you too.”


	15. Cherries

Nothing is closing my eyes

                -Soundgarden, “Blow Up The Outside World”

****

Target sold a bloody lot of throw pillows. Spike frowned at the endless array. He already had a basket overflowing with groceries, but the pillows had caught his eye. They were the perfect size and shape to stick under one of Buffy hips while…the book had said that when… He tried to not let his mind go there, but neither it nor his demon had the slightest qualm about coming up with any number of images of him and Buffy being…intimate.

He mentally poked at the demon because the pillow became sort of irrelevant if she was riding his face. Spike would swear the blasted thing was laughing at him.

Turning his attention back to the pillows, he narrowed his choice down to a smaller one without too much padding. The designs were all of food.

Buffy probably wouldn’t be thrilled if he brought home the one with a banana on it. The taco one wasn’t too subtle either.

This was a lot more difficult than getting something for Drusilla. His mind stuck there. Drusilla. He was planning on having sex with someone besides Drusilla. For a second his world tilted sideways. Sure, back in the beginning when the Scourge of Europe had still been a thing he’d been with other women, some of them human–Angelus wouldn’t have had it any other way–but that was so many lifetimes ago he could hardly remember it. Once it’d become him and Dru by themselves, he’d been proud that he was loyal to her. That he was Dru’s, and Dru’s alone, had been part of his basic identity. It’d never mattered to him that she hadn’t returned the favor. She wasn’t built the same as him.

That was a lie.

He’d cared, desperately, he’d just pretended he hadn’t.

God, if anyone else ever dared to touch Buffy…

A woman glanced worriedly at him and pushed her cart faster. Right, time to get out of here. The place was a blasted war zone anyway with it being Black Friday. He grabbed a pillow with cherries on it that wasn’t too obvious, he hoped, and carried it to the front of the store.

When he got back to the apartment Buffy was sitting on the futon watching TV. He tossed the pillow at her, a little thrill running through him as she caught it.

“A throw pillow?” she asked with a bemused smile.

“Figured the futon could use one.”

“If you say so.”

She helped him put up the groceries, but seemed tired right afterwards. He felt guilty all over again at the evidence that she really hadn’t been eating while they’d been apart. “Steak and salad for dinner?”

“Sounds wonderful,” she said, stifling a yawn.

He sat on the futon and gathered her into his arms. Buffy dozed with her head on his chest while he trolled the news channels, looking for stories of people being trampled to death in the rush for a cheap toaster. Was rather gratifying to see wankers die for greed.

He woke her up for dinner. She lasted long enough to eat and shower but almost immediately fell asleep again. Poor thing.  Turning the sound down on the TV, he read a cheap paperback thriller he’d picked up at the store while she used his thigh as a pillow.

Spike did his absolute best to concentrate on the boring characters doing boring things and to not think about all the dirty ways he could wake up his girl.

****

Stupid bladder. Buffy did not want to move. Spike was snoring lightly beside her. He was curled up, his hands tucked under his chin. It was adorable. She could have laid there and watched him forever if she didn’t have to pee so darn badly. With a resigned sigh, she scooted over and stood up. Her favorite pajamas really didn’t fit over her six-month pregnant belly. She tugged it down so it covered her bump, but her boobs nearly spilled out of the top. Terrific.  

Frustrated with feeling hugely pregnant, she hurried to bathroom, peed, and stood in front of the sink to run a brush through her hair. Geeze, pregnancy was weird. She’d really had no idea what she was in for. Setting the hairbrush down, she squinted at her face. That had better not be a pimple.

“Buffy!” Spike’s panicked yell had her rushing back out the bathroom door. “Buffy!” he cried again before catching sight of her. He was kneeling on the futon, a terrified look on his face. Her stupid pajama top was riding up but she didn’t stop to adjust it before crawling onto the mattress and throwing her arms around him. He clutched her to him, mumbling something over and over that she finally realized was: “don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, running her hands over his back. His very naked back, and her bare stomach was pressed tight against his. Spike trembled in her arms and Buffy forced away thoughts about their general lack of clothing. He’d been a wreck when he’d returned to her and she had no idea what he’d been up to during that week, but obviously things hadn’t been any easier for him than for her. “While-” She had to stop to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did you do, while you were…gone?”

His hands stroked her hair. “Drank.”

“That’s it?” Buffy asked, surprised. She’d been imagining him, well, doing what guys did and finding a willing someone to forget their hurt with.

“Pretty much. Sat in a hotel room and drank until I passed out. Rinse and bloody repeat.” He nuzzled his face against her neck. “Kept forgetting where I was and thinking I needed to make you dinner. Don’t remember doing it, but I did manage to get water in the coffee maker once, no coffee though. No clue what I thought you were going to do with a carafe of hot water.”

“Oh, Spike,” she whispered.

“And…” His breath was cool against her throat. “And I’d call for you. You weren’t there and I’d holler, thinking you must just be out of sight.” He lapsed into silence. After a few seconds his hands started to caress her back. “I can take care of you, Buffy.” His voice had gone hoarse. “Make you feel so good.”

Her toes curled. That sounded wonderful. Right until her mind dredged up the words he’d flung at her.

_Thought I might get a decent fuck out of you…a pity shag…what bloke wants…_

She looked down at her belly and how it stuck out and pushed against the flat, muscled planes of Spike’s abdomen. It wasn’t even a cute little baby bump because with two of them in there, she was as big at six months as she would have been at eight if there’d been only one. And the girls had shifted so she was totally lopsided. She felt the opposite of sexy.

“Buffy?” Spike whispered. He straightened up and brought his hand to her cheek, tilting her face up to his before resting his hands on her shoulder. “Luv, no…” His lips met hers and he kissed her fiercely for a moment before resting his forehead against her brow. “I’ve bollixed this up, haven’t I?” He was panting. “I want you so badly but all you’re thinking about is me being an idiot.”

“I don’t know what–“

Spike kissed her again, his lips demanding and his hands tight on her shoulders. She gasped under the onslaught and his tongue plunged into her mouth. Somehow her hands were in his hair and she was kissing him back. Hunger roared to life inside her. The area between her hip bones became molten and her sex pulsed with desire. She forgot everything but the feel and taste of him. Lust, thick and rich, flowed through her body. His hands grasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head.

With a delighted noise, Spike sucked one of her nipples entirely into his mouth, making her squeak because holy whatever, that felt amazing. He palmed the other breast and Buffy’s head spun. The sensation of his cool tongue flicking over her nipple was sending white hot electricity straight to her core. She moaned and Spike answered in kind, the vibration sending a new wave of pleasure crashing through her.

Her hands were still on his head and she pried her eyes open to look down at him feasting on her breasts. And at how he was awkwardly hunched around the swell of her belly. Her arms dropped to her sides. Dazedly, Spike glanced up at her. He blinked and his eyes went from glazed over to confused. “Kitten?” he whispered.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, voice flat. Shame was pushing its way through her chest. She was a silly little girl who got knocked up and then proceeded to fall in love with a man so handsome it made her heart stutter. _Pity shag_. “I don’t want you to think you have to do this to keep me, or something. I know what I look like right now and –“

She was cut off as Spike flinched and whimpered like a kicked dog.  “Oh, no, luv, no. I’m sorry…I love you so much and I want you so bad. Want to show you how much I love you.” He let out a frustrated growl and grabbed her wrist, flattening her palm against his chest and covering her hand with his own. Buffy forgot to breathe as he slowly guided her hand down his torso. The taut muscles quivered under her fingers. They reached the waistband of his pajamas. That and everything lower was hidden from sight by her bump. With a soft grunt, he slipped their hands past the elastic.

Buffy bit her lip.

Her heart was beating frantically as her fingers passed from smooth skin to wiry hair. Her eyes were fixed on the hollow at the base of his throat.  Spike visibly swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbed. Buffy inhaled sharply as his hand guided her fingers further down to wrap around the base of his cock.

Guh.

His hand left hers and he groaned as she tentatively swiped a loose fist down his shaft. His very hard shaft.

“Oh,” she breathed and looked up at his face. He was staring at her intently. “You’re never going to have to buy one of those giant, lifted, 4x4 trucks, are you?”

He grinned goofily and chuckled. “Suppose not.” Her grip tightened and his hips swayed forward. “Oh, christ. Want you, luv, not making that up.” His hands skimmed up her sides and cupped her breasts. “Know what I said. Wasn’t true, but I know you can’t unhear it. I can only hope to show you how I really feel.”

It was getting hard to think. “How’s that?” she gasped.

“I’ve never seen anyone as lovely, as desirable. You’re so alive.” He pinched her nipples and her whole body shook. “My prick isn’t lying. Want to be inside you.”

Buffy was well past want and had moved on to need. “What should I do?” She wasn’t going to mess this up by tackling him. Not now. Maybe not ever. Spike probably never needed to know how ungirly she could get.

“Lay down.” It was a deep growl. With a small frown, she let go of his cock, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

 Spike stood as she rearranged herself on her back. He pushed impatiently at his pants and they slid to the floor.  His member looked as impressive as it had felt. The pubic hair framing it was darker and curlier than she’d been expecting, not that she hadn’t known he wasn’t a natural blond. His cock was standing nearly straight out from his body, the head a deep purple.  The idea that he’d be pushing it into her…Buffy clamped her knees together as she felt wetness roll down from her opening. That’d never happened before.

“Take your shorts off, luv,” Spike asked. She watched, mesmerized, as he fisted his cock and stroked it. “Please?”

“Huh?”

“Shorts off,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, yeah.” Her cheeks flushed warm as she grabbed the waistband of her pajama shorts, slipped them down her legs, and dropped them off the edge of the futon. Spike was on her in the next instant, pushing her knees wide apart. The burning from her blush intensified. “Um, because I’m pregnant everything down there is sort of extra swollen.”

“Uh-huh,” he said absently, his eyes glued to her pussy.  “Lovely.”

Did he just call her girl parts lovely?

He swiped a finger over her clit, making her hips lift off the mattress as she yelped. He continued down, sliding his finger inside her, the look on his face one of fierce concentration. Slowly he pulled it back out, held it up briefly, shiny with her juices, and then stuck it in his mouth. He groaned loudly and his eyes fluttered closed as something akin to rapture overtook him. “Oh Buffy,” he murmured around his finger as he drew it from between his lips. “God, I think I could spend forever with my tongue in your quim.”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Erm…”

“But right now.” He was panting. “Right now I need to be inside you. Please, kitten.” His eyes met hers and all she could do was nod. “Promise I’ll see to that pretty pink pussy over and over again, from here until the end of time, but have to get my prick in you right now or I’m going to dust.”

Buffy’s mind finally worked out that he was apologizing for not going down on her. Which seemed silly What guy really liked that? “It’s okay, nobody’s ever done that anyway, no need to flatter.” Spike gave a choked, hoarse cry and immediately hunched over and shoved his face right between her legs. He was kissing, licking, and sucking on everything wildly.  It was almost too much and she squirmed. With a growl, his hands landed on her hips, pinning her. “Spike,” she said urgently, reaching around her belly to pull at his hair. He growled louder and pressed his face more firmly against her. Between the vibrations from the growls and the fact that he’d settled on flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly over her clit, Buffy was getting very close to coming, which was nice–really nice–but not what she needed. “Stop!” she cried and Spike looked up at her, fear on his face. “The first time, I need you up here.”

Relaxing, he prowled his way up her body, staying on hands and knees so he wasn’t squishing her. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Can’t imagine why…those berks…”

“Kiss me.” Now so wasn’t the time to start talking about her exes. He did, his lips slick with her arousal. His tongue rolled around her mouth and she stroked it with her own.

He sat back on his heels when she needed air and frowned as his eyes darted around the bed. After a second he grabbed the throw pillow he’d bought the other day and tapped her hip. “Let me put this under here, almost forgot but you’re not supposed to be lying flat on your back.”

Buffy rolled slightly as he positioned it. The pillow was exactly the right size and shape to both get the job done and be comfortable. A lightbulb went on. “Did you buy this pillow just for this reason?” she asked as she wiggled her bottom.

Somehow Spike managed to look bashful. “Maybe?” It was beyond cute. And cherries? Like she didn’t know what that represented. She’d tease him about it later, when she had a brain.

“Thank you,” she said. It was very thoughtful, which was entirely like him, but she didn’t know if she’d ever get used to it.

Spike scratched the back of his neck, then glanced down between their bodies, his eyes locking again on her pussy. “Going to have you now,” he said, his voice rough. Buffy trembled. With a grunt, he positioned himself between her spread thighs, grasping his cock with one hand and running it over her slick folds. “Never done this with someone who’s pregnant before,” he said. “Been a long time since I’ve done it with anyone but Dru.”

Buffy flinched. She so didn’t want to hear about his dead girlfriend.

“A couple of world wars ago long,” he continued. That startled her, it was more time than she could really process. “Buffy.” His gaze rose to hers. “You have to tell me if you’re uncomfortable, or if I’m not doing what you need…or the like.” He was nervous. The big bad vampire was worried he wouldn’t please her. It made her a lot more comfortable to know she wasn’t the only one uncertain of how things would go.

She ran a hand over his cheek. “I will.” Spike nodded and gently pushed the head of his cock inside her. Pausing, he studied her face.

“More,” she breathed. Inch by inch he pressed himself inside her, until he was completely sheathed. It felt glorious, his cock filling her perfectly.

Spike’s eyes were closed and he was wearing an expression of bliss. His entire body shuddered. “Perfect, luv. You’re perfect,” he murmured, echoing her thoughts. “I think I was born to love you like this.”

“I think you were too.” Everything felt so right. The world, that’d been so scary and confusing for so long, suddenly made sense. He was meant to be with her.  

Spike smiled slightly, then groaned. “Can’t wait any longer,” he gasped. He planted his knuckles on either side of her belly and began thrusting in long, measured strokes. Gradually he sped up, his sac slapping against her with each plunge. She wrapped an arm around her middle and braced the other against the bed. With her baby bump in the way he couldn’t kiss her without hurting her, but when his eyes opened and he locked gazes with her, the raw emotion there felt far more intimate than lips and teeth ever could.

There was love, awe, ecstasy, and much more she couldn’t even begin to name. She hoped he was able to read the same in her eyes, especially how wonderfully right being with him felt. There was zero doubt in her mind that she would be with him until her last breath. But what if he couldn’t tell? “Forever,” she forced out between mewls. “Want to be with you forever.”

“Longer,” he rumbled back. “I will love you longer than that.”

Her heart soared even as her thighs quivered. Spike transferred his weight to one hand and darted the other to her pussy. The muscles of his chest and shoulders were standing out in relief has he held himself above her while his hips swung and his cock plowed into her. His fingers found her clit and rubbed frantic little circles.

Buffy sucked in a deep breath, her body clenched tight, and pleasure exploded through her as she came. “Spike!” she groaned through clenched teeth. Her entire womb was pulsing with the waves of bliss and–oh wow–the hardness and slide of his cock was paradise. It was hard to catch her breath as she started to come down, but then his fingers, which had paused, once more began to strum her clit.

She stopped breathing, her hips lifted off the futon, and with a loud cry she came again, her vision whiting out with the pleasure. His fingers left her as he returned to holding himself up on both hands. Leaving her face, his eyes meandered down to where her breasts were swaying.

Spike started grunting each time he thrust back into her. His pace increased briefly, but then he lost his rhythm, moaned raggedly, and came. His cock bucked, pulsing hard as he spilled his load. His eyes were closed, his brows drawn tight together, and his lips parted as he shuddered through his bliss. He remained inside her for long moments and the emptiness when he pulled out was almost unbearable. She whimpered and reached for him as he lay on his side next to her. He gathered her against him, kissing her briefly before burrowing his face into her hair. “Love you,” he said.

“Love you too,” she whispered as she ran a hand over his shoulders and back.

“Did you mean it?” he asked, his voice muffled.

Buffy frowned. “What? Of course I love-“

“Not that part,” he interrupted. “The forever part.”

“Yes,” she said simply, because she really had. He was it for her. Hopefully fate would be kind to them.

“Good thing, pet. That’s how long you have me, anyways.”

She smiled and ruffled his hair. A deep purr rumbled his chest as he cuddled her, though her stomach growling briefly drowned it out.

“Hungry?” Spike asked.

She wanted to protest and stay snuggled on the bed, but her stomach complained again. “Yes,” she sighed. Chuckling, Spike stood up and pulled his pants back on, which really was too bad. “I’m going to need new PJs,” she said with a frown.  “Mine don’t really fit anymore.”

“But I like the way your tits try to fall out of them,” he pouted. Grabbing one of his black t-shirts off the floor, he tossed it to her as she rolled her eyes. Once she had the shirt over her he opened the front door and nabbed the newspaper off the mat. “Cereal?” he asked.

“Yes, please!” She’d forgotten he’d also gotten that at the store. Her craving kicked in. “Lots!” Chucking, Spike poured her a bowl, added milk, and put it in front of her as she sat down. He claimed his usual spot and pulled the section of the newspaper out that had the crossword but didn’t open it. Instead, he propped his head up on one hand and watched her eat her crunchy goodness with a dopey look on his face.

“Everything alright?” she asked him.

He grinned. “Better.”

****

Sleep wasn’t happening and he couldn’t stop smiling. Buffy was slumbering in his arms, and under Spike’s hand Dawn and Anne were obliviously kicking and somersaulting. He patted them affectionately. “Thanks for being so quiet while Mum and Dad were busy.”

He’d had a bit of a tough time remembering Buffy was human and not mauling her again and again during the day. She’d been sore after the first time and he hadn’t wanted to add to that, but it was bloody difficult. The feeling of absolute rightness when he’d been inside her had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He craved that more than the pleasure, which had been mind blowing. She’d been so hot, wet, and… Enough of that, he chided himself.

Buffy loved him. It was still hard to wrap his head around that. He’d waited more than a century for it, but at last he was home.  


	16. Strawberries

If I had my little way

                -The Presidents of the United States of America, “Peaches”

****

Sunday was laundry day. And giant crossword puzzle day. Spike had left Buffy at the kitchen table, chewing the eraser off a pencil and narrowing her eyes at the paper like she could intimidate the puzzle into giving her the answers, while he carried a load of dirty clothes to the laundry room. He was humming, more than a little pleased with himself. Waking Buffy up by petting her sex until she came, then hauling her leg over his hip and sliding himself home as soon as her eyes had fluttered open and met his had been brilliant. That feeling of being right where he was supposed to be returned every time he was inside her. It was better than any other high he’d ever had.

Her pregnancy meant he’d had to be angled slightly away from her top half, though he’d had plenty of access to her sensitive titties, and watching her shudder through another couple of orgasms had been divine. Immediately after he’d finished–noisily–she squeaked, jumped up, and rushed for the bathroom. It was a probably a good thing she hadn’t been able to see him laugh. He had the idea that both Dawn and Anne considered her bladder a fun toy to squish.

Walking into the shabby laundry room, Spike froze. There was another person…no, vampire, already in there. Well, this was awkward. The other vamp straightened up and took a step back. He was on the shorter, thinner, balding side and had a pair of glasses perched on his nose. Spike had to fight the century old urge to reach up and push his own specs back into place. And while he didn’t feel particularly like the big bad at the moment, Spike still recognized minion material when he saw it. That the guy wasn’t bowing and scraping in some more powerful vamp’s service seemed like a small miracle.

“Uh, hi,” the guy said. “That one’s free.” He pointed to one of the washing machines and went back to sorting out his whites from his darks.

Spike shrugged. “Thanks. You live on this floor? Haven’t seen you about before.”  Or even smelt him. The guy must keep a hell of a low profile.

“Across the staircase, apartment 331. My n-name’s Dalton.”

“Spike.”

Dalton’s brows shot up. “Slayer-killer Spike?”

“I’m glad to see my reputation proceeds me.” Spike grinned as he dumped the basket of clothes in the washer.

The guy stared at Spike, his forehead furrowed. “Can I ask why you’re living with…um…why…?”

“A human?”

“That,” Dalton said, voice faint.

Spike frowned at the detergent he was adding. It was a fair question, he supposed, and there was little reason to lie. “Love her.”

Dalton blinked.  “Oh.  T-that’s a good reason.”

Bloody hell, of course it was. Spike fed the machine quarters and started it up. Dalton had just finished doing the same. Watching the other vamp from the corner of his eye, Spike worked up his courage. He was reasonably certain Dalton wasn’t the kind to regularly go trolling for victims. “Hey, mate, do you…ah…do you know of anywhere around here that sells blood out the back to people like us?”

Dalton almost dropped his laundry basket. “Actually, yeah, closest place even delivers. Er, if you want to follow me I can give you their card.”

“Sure.”

Spike trailed behind the other vampire as Dalton returned to his apartment and unlocked the door. The interior was even smaller than Buffy’s place. There was only one room, with a chair and a small cot in one corner. The rest was filled with floor to ceiling bookcases. If there was a window, it’d been concealed behind the shelves.

As Dalton sorted through a drawer, Spike couldn’t help but start scanning his eyes over the wealth of books. They ran the gamut, from scholarly texts to the latest who-dun-its.

“You can borrow some, if you want. If you, ah, read,” Dalton said from beside him.

Spike frowned, ready to snap at the guy, but then realized reading wasn’t exactly a regular vampire pastime.  “Sure I read, been on a French kick lately. _Tous les genres sont bons, hors le genre ennuyeux.”_

Dalton snorted. “Voltaire…how about something a little more recent? I’ve got Lemaitre’s Camille trilogy, excellent plotting.” He skimmed his fingers along the spines of his collection. “English or French?”

“French. You’ve read ‘em?”

“Of course.”

Feeling like someone was going to appear and demand he hand over his fangs, Spike gave into temptation. He’d been longing to have someone to talk to about what he read.  “Shouldn’t take me too long, could have a pint together and discuss ‘em one afternoon while the missus is at work.”

“I’d…that’d be nice.” Dalton looked dumbfounded. “Oh, and here’s that card.” He tucked it under the cover of the top novel of the three he was clutching and pushed them into Spike’s hands. “If you tell them I referred you we’ll both get a discount, but they’re not open today. I actually have some extra, if you want…”

****

Buffy looked up as the apartment door opened. Spike entered, carrying a Styrofoam cup and three books. He was looking heavenward. “Baudelaire is not overrated. _Les Fleurs Du Mal_ is a blasted brilliant work.”

“That says more about you than the quality,” another voice replied. Spike was followed by a man that appeared like he should be lecturing a classroom full of bored students. He caught sight of her. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi!” Buffy waved. The guy looked immediately lost and somehow Buffy just knew. Vampire. Though not a very scary one.

“Buffy,” Spike said, opening the fridge and putting the cup in. “This is our neighbor Dalton, he lives over in 331. He’s an alright sort of bloke, lending me some reading material and giving me my lunch for today.”

“Hello,” Dalton said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Spike walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She could feel the undercurrent of possessiveness that rolled off him. Dalton flinched, shook himself, and then smiled. Spike relaxed. Something had happened that Buffy knew she wasn’t exactly equipped to understand. Having a vampire boyfriend could be weird.

Dalton’s hands were filled with two more cups, though these had faint wisps of steam escaping the tops. He handed one to Spike, who popped the top and motioned for Dalton to sit down across the table while Spike hooked a chair with his foot and pulled it next to Buffy.

“Big city perks. There’s a butcher that delivers blood, if you can believe that,” Spike said.

“That’s handy.” Buffy couldn’t help but imagine a vamp in a dapper suit dropping off bottles of blood like a mirror-house version of a milkman. She shook her head and focused on their guest. “Are you from around here?” she asked Dalton.

“No, I was born in Chicago. Didn’t come out here until the seventies.”

“18 or 19?” Buffy asked.

“19,” Dalton said with a chuckle. “I’m not that old.”

“You remember when bell-bottoms and shag carpet were the hottest new things. That makes you ancient.”

Both vampires scoffed. Buffy bit her lip and turned to her boyfriend. “Did you have a pair?” she asked, batting her eyes innocently at him.

“Oi! What kind of a question is that?”

“Which means he did,” Dalton said, hiding his face behind his cup as he took a drink.

Buffy laughed, trying to picture Spike in full flower-power glory. “I bet you looked cute.”

Spike’s grumbled reply was unintelligible as he slurped his pig’s blood.

“And you, do you just dress like a librarian,” Buffy said to Dalton with a smile.  “Or is that brain of yours useful?” She twirled her pencil between her fingers.

Dalton glanced down at the crossword she’d been slowly completing. “Try me.”

“Fourteen letter word, starts with ‘A’ and ends with ‘N’, clue says: person with high or lofty ideals.”

“Altitudinarian,” Dalton said promptly.

“Oooo! I think that works. Bring him over for breakfast every Sunday.” Buffy started writing in the answer, but had to stop. “Uh, Dalton, can you spell that?”

****

Ugh, Monday. Though it was only kind of Monday because Willow had worked yesterday. So it was Tuesday for her, but still Monday for the rest of the world. Which meant it was like she was having to suffer through an extra Monday. Bummer.

“Everything okay?” Tara asked from beside her as they did prep for the lunch rush.

“Mondays are stupid. And dumb. There should only be one every two weeks or something.”

“Wouldn’t that just make Tuesdays the new Monday?”

“Oh, you and your reality.”

Tara laughed and Willow sighed. Her nose itched and she swiped at it with her hand.

“Hey, you got strawberry guts on you,” Tara said, pointing at Willows nose. Willow tried to look, but she figured out from Tara’s amused expression that she was just making herself cross-eyed.

“Napkin?” Willow asked.

The laughter left Tara’s face. “I’ve got it.” Willow’s breathing hitched. Sweet bunny trees, Tara was going to…Tara leaned forward and darted out her tongue to lick the end of Willow’s nose. Willow felt it all the way to her toes. Her hand went to Tara’s hip and then, oh wow, they were kissing. Tara’s lips were sweet, soft, and she tasted like strawberries.

Someone cleared their throat. That was rude.

“Everything okay, Wes?” Tara asked, breaking the kiss. She blushed, looking like she could hardly believe what she’d done. Willow couldn’t either. She’d been hoping Tara felt the same as she did.

“What’s with Lorne today? He seemed on edge,” Wes asked, drumming his fingers on the bar.

Now that Wes mentioned it, Lorne had seemed crotchety this morning instead of his usual sunny self.  “Yeah, is he okay?” Willow echoed.

Tara sighed and ran a hand through Willow’s hair. “There was someone here, late last night,” Tara’s voice was a whisper. “One of Mr. Trick’s cronies. The Sun Thief has been exempt from Mr. Trick’s protection,” Tara made air quotes, “for a long time. Now he’s all of a sudden demanding money and oversight. Lorne is…not happy.”

“Do you think that it has anything to do with my charge?” Wes’ fingers drummed faster.

Tara nodded.

Wes let out loud breath.

They all looked towards the entryway as a giggle echoed around the bar. Buffy, with Spike’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, was laughing at something he’d said.

“Oh, just wonderful,” Wes snapped.

“Be nice,” Tara said. “They’re happy.”

Willow couldn’t deny that. She’d never seen Buffy looking so cheerful. “Oh, they finally got it on, didn’t they?”

Wes groaned.

“Yes, honey, I think so,” Tara said, laughing. Willow’s heart soared. Honey was the sort of thing you called your girlfriend.

Willow was happy for Buffy. If there was anyone that deserved love, it was Buffy. Riley had been a jerkface. Speaking of love…she turned back towards Tara, who was holding a strawberry out with the green part already gone.

“Can you make sure this tastes alright?” Tara asked shyly.

Willow pushed thoughts of scary mafia-demons and her best friend boinking a vampire out of her head. “Uh-huh.” She parted her lips.

****

“How’s this supposed to bloody help?” Spike asked from where he was sprawled in a chair as Wes led Buffy through a series of exercises with a stake in her hand.

Buffy frowned. Was she supposed to answer that?

“She’s learning basic form,” Wes sniffed. He corrected the angle of her arm and had her repeat the series of moves.

Spike watched for another moment and then scoffed. “Yeah, when I go in for a kill I make sure and critique a Slayer’s adherence to form first.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thanks for the reminder.” He shrugged a shoulder.

“What, pray tell,” Wes said with a sigh. “Do you think she should be learning? And might I add that things will be more…vigorous, once she’s no longer pregnant?”

“Yeah they will be.” Spike leered at her and Buffy felt her face flush. Wes crossed his arms and rubbed a temple.  “Look, I got an idea,” Spike said as he gracefully rose to his feet and walked over to her, arms hanging loosely at his sides. “Stake me.”

“Excuse me?” Was he crazy? Stumbling backwards, she desperately looked at her Watcher.

“You’re not going to get an argument from me,” Wes said. “Can’t say I won’t enjoy it, either.”

“But…” Her hand that was holding the stake shook.

“The Gem, one I told you about.” Spike tilted his head to the side. “You won’t kill me, and it’ll be a damned bit more educational than yoga and a straw dummy. Plus, might be cathartic.” He rolled his shoulders.

Buffy’s lunch threatened to make a return appearance. She couldn’t hurt Spike. Not again, she’d already done more than her fair share. The stake clattered to the floor and she spun on her heel, racing as quick as she could to the female employees’ bathroom. She sat on a padded bench with her back against the wall.

She was terrified. It didn’t matter that he’d said it wouldn’t really dust him, all she could picture was that she’d be killing the man she loved. Tears ran down her cheeks and she ineffectually swiped at them while sniffling. Anything that might take him away from her, Dawn, and Anne was more than she could bear. Especially if it was her fault.

Buffy hadn’t been sitting there too long when the door flew open and Anya marched in. She stood in front of Buffy with her hands on her hips. “The guys are freaking out and wondering if you’re okay and I got volunteered to check.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look splotchy.”

“Thanks.”

Anya sighed. “I used to be a demon, y’know. The Sunnydale Slayer and her cohorts crushed my power center.”

“Um, sorry?” Buffy didn’t know exactly how you responded to that.

Anya waved a hand. “Not your fault. But I was a demon for more than a millennium, so maybe I can explain things to you.”

“I need explaining to?”

“Yes.”

Well, that was direct. Buffy scooted over. “Sit down and get with the explainage then.”

Anya sat with sigh. “You confused your vampire.”

“What else is new?”

“More than usual. So I’m acting as a translator. Spike wasn’t simply offering to let you stake him out of the goodness of his heart. Because he doesn’t have a working heart or much goodness.”

Buffy’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t know anything about his heart–“

“I mean literally, since it doesn’t beat. He loves you.” Anya patted her knee and Buffy rolled her eyes. “To him, you fake-dusting him would be a massive turn on. He was thinking you’d get aggressive, the pain wouldn’t be much, and then he’d take you home and give you lots of orgasms.”

“I’d get aggressive?” Buffy frowned. That was the last thing she wanted to do, it tended to make men run for the hills.  

“Yeah, staking isn’t that easy. You need to be all Amazonian about it.” Anya made an angry face and mimed stabbing something.

This conversation wasn’t making anything clearer. “How’s that supposed to turn him on?”

“Duh, vampire. He likes grr, and pain too. Have you bitten him yet? That usually really gets them going…” Anya trailed off as she glanced at Buffy, who knew her face had to be a mask of confusion. “Maybe you should ask him. He might have been worried because you’re pregnant. Anyway, running off instead of being willing to stab him probably felt the same as if he turned you down for sexual intercourse.”

That would make her feel terrible. Ugh. This was making her brain hurt. “Uh…what should I do?”

“Stake him then let him get freaky with you.” Anya said it like most people would say ‘pass the salt’, like it was normal. Buffy pursed her lips. Her normal had taken a detour a month and a half ago. This was the new normal, where your vampire-boyfriend wanted you to pretend-kill him because he’d think it was sexy and you got relationship advice from super-old ex-demons.

“I think I can handle that,” Buffy said, quirking her lips. If he could buy a sex-pillow for her at Target, the least she could do was try and understand his needs. “Thank you.”

Anya beamed. “You’re welcome.” She leaned closer. “Give me details later. I haven’t had a boyfriend in weeks.”

“Uh…”

“Now get moving, he’s waiting out there for you, okay?” Anya stood and marched through the bathroom door. “She’ll be out in a minute,” Anya announced. Spike growled in response.

Buffy awkwardly stood up from the low bench. Sooner or later she wasn’t going to be able to do that without help. Possibly she was going to need to start beeping when she backed up. Surely fifteen more weeks, give or take, wasn’t going to feel like it was that long. Probably. And she wasn’t waddling and her belly button didn’t stick out…yet.

Slowly, she exited the restroom. Spike was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Wes was nowhere to be seen. Their eyes met and almost instantly, Spike was wrapped around her from behind. His face was buried in her hair and his hands slid over her. “Everything alright?” he asked hesitantly.

“It is,” Buffy said, mostly truthfully. “Anya explained some things to me, a demon to human translation, kind of. But I figure there was no one to do the opposite, so, here goes.” Spike’s hands were resting lightly on her belly and she covered them with her own. “When you said…all I could see was that I would be hurting you again, and I already hurt you…and I just couldn’t.”

Spike whimpered into her hair and his fingers twitched.

“But Anya let me see it from your perspective.”

“Did she now? Rather useful, that one.”

Buffy squared her shoulders. “Yes, and, uh, I’d like to try, if the offer still stands.”

Spike chuckled. “It does.” He let go of her but caught her hand and led her to the training room. Wes was seated at a table, book in hand. He steepled his fingers, a questioning look on his face. “Girl’s game,” Spike said. Dropping her hand, Spike went to the table Wes kept weapons on. Looking through the stakes, Spike tested the ends with his finger, finally settling on one and handing it to her. It looked wicked sharp.

“Now Buffy–“ Wes started.

“No niceties,” Spike interrupted. “We do this my way. You do what you do best and watch, Watcher.” Wes huffed, but surprisingly settled back into his chair, one hand again rubbing at his temple. Spike stripped off his shirt and Wes huffed louder. “Don’t need a hole in it, you berk.”

Buffy settled into a loose defensive stance, the stake raised. She pivoted on her heel to follow Spike’s movements as he began to circle her.  His lean musculature was a little more intimidating when it wasn’t her playground. Though it was still plenty distracting.

“You’ve got to want it, luv,” he said quietly.

Huh? Oh, right. “To kill you?”

He grinned. “Nah. You’ve got to want to live. And right now, to keep the nibblets alive.”

That part wasn’t hard, she’d do anything for her girls.

“But if it helps, think of all the asinine shite I threw at you. Get me back.”

Buffy bit her lip. She’d forgiven him all that. As upset as his words had made her, as hard as they were to forget, she didn’t feel he needed to be punished for them.

Spike ruefully shook his head. “You’re far too good for me…Try this.” He slipped into his demon face and snarled. From the corner of her eye she saw Wes start to rise but she shook her head at him and he subsided back into his chair. Buffy couldn’t explain it, but she felt something. A vague unease under her skin. The grip on her stake tightened.

Abruptly, Spike changed direction, circling the other way. She followed, keeping her stake ready and pointed at him. When the attack came her instincts screamed at her to protect her children. One minute fangs and claws were headed for her, the next she was dodging to the side as the hand with the stake lashed out with more force than she’d ever mustered before.

Spike reeled back. “I’ll be damned.” He was staring dumbfounded down at his chest, from which was sticking the end of the stake. He poked it with a clawed finger, then shook off the demon. “She got it in one.” He looked up at her and his smile stretched ear-to-ear. “You’re a natural, luv.”

Her breath was coming in pants and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wood she’d jammed into her boyfriend’s chest. Wes looked as shocked as she felt.

“You write that down, Watcher,” Spike chuckled. “She’s amazing.” His eyes returned to her, warm and full of love.

The wooden butt of the stake was moving every time he took a breath, freaking her out. He raised a hand to it again, poking a finger at the hole it’d made. “Let me, I can’t stand…” Buffy said, reaching towards him.

“Got it,” Spike grunted and pulled out the stake, dropping it to the floor. The hole closed immediately.

“That’s better,” Buffy mumbled. She rubbed her hand over the place the stake had been. There wasn’t even a mark. Spike pushed into her hand, his eye dropping to half-mast.

“Girl’s tired. I’m going to take her home,” Spike rumbled.

She almost protested, she wasn’t really that tired, in fact she felt exhilarated from being able to do the right thing. Her whole body was buzzing…oh, she got it. Home. Sex. Now.

“Yup, I’m totally exhausted. Completely. Going home now. For sleep.”

“Wonderful,” Wes said dryly, but she didn’t care how transparent Spike and she were being.

Spike somehow got his shirt and duster on, as well as her out the front of the bar and headed in the direction of the apartment building. She was so incredibly aware of him. The city with its buildings and streets faded into the background. All she could see was him, the slash of his cheekbone, the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, the strong line of his back under his coat. With every step her nipples were chaffing against the lace of her bra. Her pussy was aching in its emptiness.

Home was too far away. She needed him inside her.

Turning her head, she caught sight of an alleyway with several dumpsters near the mouth. Perfect. “Spike.” She tugged on his sleeve.

“Yeah, kitten?” He appeared to be trying to see down the front of her blouse.

“There. Now.”

“Oh, thank _god_.”


	17. Shrimp Tacos

She said I'm ready, for you

                -Pearl Jam, “Alive”

****

The alley was grimy and the pavement wet under their feet, but Spike couldn’t have cared less. He wanted his girl badly. Needed to be deep inside her, lost in the warm, slick slide of her channel. Buffy’s eyes widened when he grabbed one of the tall dumpsters and yanked it sideways behind them. “Don’t need an audience,” he grunted as he cupped the back of her head and brought his lips against hers.

She moaned into his mouth as her hands flattened on his chest. Their kisses were deep and hungry. He couldn’t get enough of her taste. Would never get enough of it. When she broke away to gasp in lungfulls of air he kissed along her throat. “Amazing, luv, you’re amazing.”

She laughed a little. “What brought that on?”

He nuzzled his check against hers. “Not a million other girls, even Slayers, could have done what you did. I was expecting to grab you a time or two to scare you and spend some time trying to explain how you needed to move. Why did you strike when you did?”

Her hands had pulled his t-shirt out of his waistband and were working their way under it, trailing warm paths over his skin. “I’m not strong enough to drive the stake in on my own. I had to do it while you were lunging. If you grabbed me, it’d be too late.”

“Amazing,” he said again.

She blushed as he rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t think about it that hard. It just felt right.”

“Going to make you feel right again,” he rumbled into her ear, delighting at the way she shivered at his words. He kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. She sucked at him, sending a wave of pure lust southward and making his already hard cock twitch.

“Want you,” she groaned, her nails scratching down his abdomen. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, gave up, and lowered his zipper. One hot hand snaked inside his pants to wrap tightly around his prick.

Spike trembled. He’d been wondering where his kitty’s claws had gotten off to. She backed up against the wall, tugging him along by his cock. The grin on his face had to be goofy, but he didn’t care. He undid his belt and the button of his fly, relishing her firm grip as she stroked him. Bloody hell, he’d been waiting forever to feel like this, like someone was desperate for him. That it was her, that she loved him. Emotion pounded in his chest like a heartbeat.

 Buffy’s pupils were wide, her eyelids heavy, and her lips swollen as she panted. “Want you,” she said again, but then looked down. Her hand stilled. “Damn it,” she cursed. He immediately figured out the problem. Her baby bump was in the way. He slid a hand over it then up to cup her breast through her shirt.

“No worries, Spike’s got you,” he said. He pinched her nipple and her entire body rolled. Nipping and kissing his way from her neck to her ear he whispered. “You know I’m ready. What about my kitten? You wet for me?”

“Yes. Please, Spike,” she whimpered, her face turning towards his to seek out his lips. He kissed her deeply again, enjoying how her hand on his cock unconsciously took up the rhythm of his tongue as it lapped against hers.

At last the insistent desire to shove his prick into the haven of her body overrode all else.  She blinked dazedly as he pulled away from her mouth and hand. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her pants he pulled them and her panties down around her ankles. Reverently, he trailed his fingers up her bared legs and over her hips as he stood. His cock brushed against the underside of her belly as he leaned in for another kiss and an almost electrical jolt passed through him.

Buffy was so alive. It rolled off her in waves. When he was inside her he could feel an echo of the life he’d lost welling up inside him. It called to him. “Have to have you now,” he rasped out. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her so her back was to his front. He braced one forearm against the dirty brick wall and encouraged her to rest her head against it. Delving a finger between the lips of her sex he found her dripping with desire. Another wave of pure lust washed through him, terminating in the head of his cock. He was hard enough to ache.

Bending his knees, he used his free hand to position himself at her opening. She was so slick his prick slid in easily. They both gasped. His fingers skimmed over her ass and hip, coming to rest on her belly. He spread his hand wide to support her as he began to thrust.

He nuzzled his way through the golden strands of her hair so that his lips could caress the nape of her neck. “Love you,” he said. “I will always love you, my girl…” The demon was roaring to be free and since she couldn’t see his face, he let go. Buffy gasped as he shifted. His thrusts became harder but she only mewed louder and her inner muscles clasped harder with each stroke. “I have always loved you,” he snarled against her skin.

“Spike,” she groaned, pressing kisses against the skin of his forearm where his sleeve had ridden up.

She was intoxicating, pure bliss.

His mouth worked its way over to the sensitive area where her neck joined her shoulder. He tore her shirt with his fangs and laved his tongue over her soft skin. Her breathing hitched.

“Yes,” she moaned. His fangs barely pierced her skin. “Yes!” she said louder. Her fingers skimmed his, then dropped between her legs. She sucked hard on his forearm as she rubbed her clit. The walls of her channel clamped down steadily. Her legs trembled and she came with muffled cry. The pulsing of her pussy around his cock and that of her womb under his hand was almost more than he could handle at once, his body and emotions were threatening to fly apart. “Love you,” she panted as she came back down. He anchored himself to her words. His girl loved him.

Her channel started to tighten again. “Oh god, Spike.” Her voice was low and hoarse. “Oh god.” She kissed his arm, her mouth warm and soft against him. He didn’t think he was hurting her as he sped up the thrusts of his cock into the welcoming haven of her body.

“So wonderful,” he lisped around his fangs. The world had disappeared and there was only her. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her skin, mouth, and pussy, the sound of her cries and the slap of their bodies together. Nothing else existed.

“I want…” she panted and paused, the warmth of her breath tickling the hair on his arm. Then she struck, blunt human teeth digging into his arm. Instincts went haywire. He was slamming his cock into her. His fangs bore down and he could taste her blood, taste the hormonal rush as she orgasmed again, a live wire around his fangs and prick.

His sac drew up and with a flurry of thrusts and a harsh grunt he came. Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids as unadulterated euphoria rushed from his groin to overtake his entire body. He threw his head back and howled like the bloody animal he was. It seemed to go on for eternity as he spurted his load into her but then it was over too quickly and he was collapsing forward, his weight resting on the arm against the bricks.

When something resembling muscle coordination returned, he spun Buffy, who looked as stunned as he felt, and pulled her into a hug. He buried his nose against the top of her head, uncaring that their pants were still around their ankles. Her arms wrapped snugly around him. “My love,” he sighed as his human mask returned. “I’ve been searching for you for so long. Buffy, my treasure.”

****

Spike had his arm around her and was looking like the cat that ate the canary. Buffy didn’t know what to think. She had no idea sex could be like that. It’d been transcendent. She’d barely known her own name by the end. But the further they walked from that alley, the shriller her inner voice of doubt became.

She snuck at glance at her boyfriend.  It didn’t look like he minded she’d been demanding, that she’d wanted sex up against some wall like a…and Spike didn’t seem upset she’d bitten him. And he’d started it. But it wasn’t as if he’d said he’d liked it, either. In fact, he hadn’t said much of anything after they’d started walking again.

What if…

Would he think less of her now? For acting like some common slut? She’d be just another girl who got carried away, which wasn’t the kind you stayed with forever. A fun screw. A whore instead of a girlfriend.

“Hey, you hungry?” Spike asked, squeezing her shoulder and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

She would have liked to say no, but the scent from the little hole-in-the-wall Mexican place that always seemed to be open washed over her and her stomach growled. “Sure,” she said.

“What do you want?”

“Um, a couple of shrimp tacos and a lemonade.”

Not letting go of her, Spike ordered the food, adding an extra spicy one for himself. Buffy couldn’t meet the cashier-lady’s gaze, afraid she’d see her shame reflected back at her.

The service was quick and Spike led her to a low concrete wall that ran beside a building.  Buffy scrunched up her nose. “You’re going to have to help me get down and back up.”

Chuckling, Spike offered her his hand and helped her sit, claiming a spot right beside her. She busied herself with unwrapping a taco, focusing on the yummy shrimp instead of anything else.

“Buffy,” Spike said quietly. “Is everything alright? Did I do something?” He nervously jiggled a knee.

“N-no, I–“ Buffy shook her head.

“Talk to me, please, luv. Been having a great day with you but you’re looking like you’re not feeling the same.”

She heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how to say this…” she trailed off. She really didn’t.

“Please? I’ll try to do better, anything.” He sounded almost scared.

“It’s not you. I just…what must you think of me now?” She finally raised her eyes to his face.

Spike’s brow was creased and he looked completely lost. “What I think of you? Kitten, you’re amazing. Love everything about you, I don’t–“ His face darkened. “You’re expecting me to…I don’t know what.” His knee bounced faster and then froze. “Wait, I get it. You let go back there and now you’re waiting for your punishment.” Spike’s eyes glowed yellow for a moment. He dropped his food back in the bag and circled his fingers loosely around her arm. “Buffy, tell me what that wanker of an ex said to you about sex.” He let go and his arm fell to his side while his hands balled into fists.

“I’m not sure it’s anything you want to hear.” She trained her eyes back on her taco. It tasted good and she was suddenly mad at Riley that she couldn’t even enjoy her dinner without him ruining it.

“I live with you, I love you. You are my girl and if I’m having to deal with his bullshit, I at least deserve to know what it is I’m fighting against!”

“Okay.” She waited while Spike regained control of himself.

“Go ahead,” he said after a minute.

“I was always–“ It was hard for her to force the words out. The image of Riley with a disapproving look on his face as he pushed her against the mattress and lectured her on her place in his home and bed wavered before her eyes. “I was never…girly enough for him.”

“Girly? Like you didn’t wear enough bows in your hair?”

“In bed. I tried to get on top too much, or tell him what to do. He said that no man would ever want a girl like that. And that getting pregnant was God’s punishment for me being so demanding.”

Spike didn’t say anything and when she lifted her eyes to his face it was to find him gaping at her. He opened and closed his mouth uselessly several times. Squirming on the uncomfortable concrete, Buffy ran a hand over her belly.

“P-punishment?” Spike finally managed to get out. “Dawn and Anne?” He scooted so she was tucked against his side and put one arm around her back while the other hand landed on her baby bump. “Our babies? They’re miracles, blessings.”

Buffy shakily put her food into the bag and turned into his embrace. _Our babies._ She was going to cry.

His hand ran through her hair. “And you’re amazing.”

She wanted to believe him. He wasn’t Riley. “I can’t help it,” she said against the leather of his coat. “I keep believing you’re going to think I’m terrible.”

“Why?”

“Because of how I acted earlier.”

“Luv, pretend I’m dim, yeah? Spell it out for me.” His hand was still stroking her hair.

“Girls who…I was too…women who act like whores get treated as such.”

Spike was silent for a moment. Slowly he sat up straight and cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him. His expression was one of cold fury. “I would be seriously brassed off at you right now if I thought those were your words. Instead I’m doing my best not leave you sitting here to go after the git who has you feeling ashamed after what was one of the highlights of my entire existence. Christ, Buffy, I nearly blacked out when I came. And to know you’re sitting here feeling cheap–“

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“You’re everything to me, Buffy. Everything. Did you think I was going to toss you on the rubbish heap for enjoying yourself?” She nodded mutely. “Never.” He kissed her softly. “You do just want you want with me.” His voice was low and gentle. “Ride me into the mattress, bite and scratch, scream the rafters down. I want all that and more. And to be clear, it’s not just that I like it rough. Love to be tender and sweet with you, too, but knowing you want me? To the point you can’t hold back? God, it makes me so bloody hard.”

His thumbs swiped at the tears on her face as she tried to puzzle out what exactly he was saying. “I can try–“

“Buffy, you do what you want. Sexually or otherwise. But when I’m inside you.” He growled softy and a shiver of mixed fear and lust shot down her spine. “You don’t ever hold back. I want all of you. Your pleasure will never make me feel like less of a man. How can it when it means you want my prick that badly?”

She laughed through her tears. “You have such a way with words.”

Spike smiled crookedly at her and kissed her again. “I try. You want to eat that other taco on the way home?”

“Yeah, pregnant lady. I’m still hungry.”

“My pregnant lady.” There was love in his voice. Standing, he helped her up. She took a long drink of her lemonade and passed him the cup to hold while she worked on her taco as they meandered towards home. 

****

Spike dearly wanted to kill something. Anything. Watch it bleed. Preferably Buffy’s berk of an ex. How could the guy make such a passionate woman feel so bad about what came to her naturally?  His fangs were itching to descend.  

The urge increased as the scent of blood hit his nose. They’d just rounded the corner and their apartment building was in view. There seemed to be a lot more people than usual loitering around the entrance.

Buffy finished her drink and threw it in a bin. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Don’t know, but I smell blood. Stay close.”

Spike in the lead, they pushed through the small crowd and into the building’s dimly lit foyer. The source of the commotion and blood wasn’t hard to find. A woman that appeared human if you didn’t look too closely was sprawled on her back on the tile floor. She was thoroughly dead, the wooden stake that’d been used to gut her was lodged in her chest.

The woman looked elderly, her grey hair in curls and a myriad of wrinkles creasing her face. She was vaguely familiar. Spike was certain she’d lived in the building, but couldn’t remember her name or what apartment.

Buffy was peering around his side. He tried to step in front of her to hide the gruesome sight but she crossed her arms and sighed. “And if–“ She glanced around at the non-human crowd. “That thing happens where I’m not just a girl anymore, are you going to try and shield me from everything bad?”

She had a point. “Guess not.” While Buffy studied the body, he scanned the crowd. Catching sight of Dalton, Spike waved him over and asked, “Did you know her?”

“Maureen? Yeah, just to say ‘hi’, she’s been living here for decades.” Dalton was shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

Buffy’s nose was wrinkled. “I used to see her behind the building a lot with cans of tuna for the stray cats. I just thought she was one of those crazy old cat-ladies.”

“Well.” Dalton shrugged. “She ate the cats.”

“That’s not nearly as big of a surprise as it probably should be.”

There were a few moments of silence as Buffy continued to stare at Maureen’s mangled corpse. “What are you thinking, luv?” Spike asked when the quiet got to be too much.

“Non-human assailant. No way a person, even a really strong one, is going to be able to use something as dull as a wooden stake to slash like that.”

Spike pursed his lips. She had a point.

“Publicly dumping the body like this…it’s a warning,” Buffy continued, her face pale.

 “Maureen tended to be uncooperative with the staff and Mr. Trick’s rent collectors,” Dalton offered. “He could be telling us to keep up with the rent.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said slowly. “But the stake...” Her voice dropped so low that both he and Dalton had to lean in to hear her. “The stake is meant for me.”

Dalton’s eyes went wide. “Like someone wanted to kill you instead?”

She shook her head. Spike felt like he was falling off a cliff. A stake tearing open a women’s gut. Buffy was right, it was a message. “They just want me to know they’re watching me,” she said. She closed her eyes and breathed shallowly through her mouth. “I understand why there’s no cops here, but maybe someone could get rid of the body?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Spike said.

Dalton shook his head. “I’ll do it.” He put a hand on Spike’s shoulder. “You take your girl upstairs.”

Spike nodded, immeasurably grateful. “We could go somewhere else, get a hotel if you don’t want to stay here,” he murmured in her ear.

She glanced around at the worried faces of the other residents and shook her head. “This is where I live. I’m not going to let someone take it away from me so easily.” She stood tall and he could see people in the crowd nodding their heads in agreement. For the first time, he saw her as the Slayer she could be. She was magnificent. Something in his chest lurched and swelled with pride and love.

 Putting a hand on her arm he gently led her to the stairs. Buffy didn’t resist as he scooped her up and carried her to their apartment. He set her down on the futon and immediately curled up next to her.

“Mr. Trick,” she said. “He knows I’m a potential. He knows I live here with you and that I work at The Sun Thief. What I don’t know is why he cares.”

“He might care because Lorne cares,” Spike replied, pulling her onto his lap. “I’ll keep you safe, Buffy.”

“I know.”

She sounded completely confident in him as she rested her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and his babies, wishing he felt half so sure. 


	18. Peanut Butter Cookies

 

I give this part of me for you

                -Alice in Chains, “Down in a Hole”

****

_Three weeks to Christmas…_

Buffy was all afterglow-y. It made her not want to stand up, or move, or do anything, really. She tilted her head just enough to see Spike. He was cuddled against her side as she lay on her back. The corners of his lips were tilted up in a smile, his eyes were closed, and he was purring loudly.  He had an arm curled around her belly and was gently stroking it.

The twins were awake and kicking. They were another week closer to getting here. It was terrifying. As was the fact that Christmas was almost here. She had no idea what to get Spike. Or when she was going to get it, for that matter. He’d been glued to her side since the murder.

Buffy kept having the odd feeling that she should be more freaked out than she was. Normal really had been recalibrated for her over the last few months. 

The first floor–or ground floor, as Spike would say–apartment had been cleaned out and was now up for rent. She had no doubt it’d be snatched up in a second, even if the new tenant knew about why it was available. Relatively inexpensive places with this kind of location were few and far between.

Buffy squirmed, pulled the throw pillow out from under her, and turned on her side to face her boyfriend. He shifted so his arm was over her and his hand running slowly up and down her back. She kissed the corner of his mouth before resting her head on the pillow and allowing her eyes to study his face.

He looked so content. She had no idea what it was about her that pleased him, but it was ridiculously easy for her to make him happy. On Sunday morning, she’d caught him frowning at the cup of blood he’d pulled from the fridge. With a resigned sigh, he’d put it in the microwave to heat. She wasn’t dumb, she knew drinking animal blood wasn’t the same as hunting and killing. Part of her even understood that she could have no real idea what he was giving up to be with her, but she could at least let him know she appreciated what he was doing.

He’d been standing at the counter, drumming his fingers against the linoleum, so she’d come up behind him and put her arms around his waist, turning to the side so she could hug him close. Standing on tip-toe she’d nibbled at his neck and whispered ‘thank you’. His bad mood had evaporated like dew under the sun. She’d gone to get dressed and had heard him singing to himself while he sipped his breakfast. Dalton, who kept normal vampire hours, so mornings were staying up late for him, had even somehow been invited over and the three of them had worked the Sunday crossword together.

Buffy was really starting to feel like she had a home and life, one that she wouldn’t be abruptly shut out of.

“What are you thinking about?” Spike asked, moving his hand from her back to cup her cheek.

“How nice it is to feel like I might have found a place in the world.”

Spike’s purring got louder.

He must have seen and done so much in the forever that he’d lived. Been everywhere, done everything.  “Did you mean it?” she asked.

His eyes popped open. “Uh, did I mean what?” The purring trailed off. “I think I’m supposed to agree here? But maybe not? What answer doesn’t get me in trouble?”

“That…that…being with me, on the way home the other day. Um, you called it a highlight of your life, but–but, you must have done so many things, including sex things, that were way more exciting than that.” Buffy closed her eyes.

Spike’s fingers trailed over her face. “Wasn’t lying, luv. Or even exaggerating. Never felt anything like when I’m with you. It feels so right, like at last I’m where I’m supposed to be, and, christ Buffy, you’re awash with life. For a…dead thing, like me, to be able to share in that for even a little while…it’s far too sublime for words.”

She spread her fingers out over his chest. It was easy to forget there wasn’t a heart beating there.

Spike took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Being in your arms and knowing you love me…and, oh kitten, knowing it’s me you want. And that day–“ His thumb brushed over her lips. “That day I was so lost in you I think I forgot my own name for a while. The entire world ceased to exist. It felt like I poured the entirety of myself into you as I came.” He paused, completely still. “No, Buffy, never known anything like that before.”

Buffy bit her lip. The emotion rolling off him was almost overwhelming.

“It feels like I’ve been looking for you forever, since I was a lonely young man more full of dreams than common sense.”

“But, your girlfriend that you were with for so long…you loved her.”

He sighed against the top of her head. “Drusilla, and yes, I did. In return she loved me the best she could, but she was broken before I ever knew her.”

“Broken?”

“Her Sire drove her insane, then turned her. I thought–“

Buffy opened her eyes. Spike’s face was a mask of pain.

“I believed her to be the love I’d been longing for. She wasn’t. I was shown that right quick.”

“Tell me,” she whispered. This sounded like something he’d been carrying around for far too long.

“Thought she was my girl, my immortal beloved and all that rot. Walked in on her having a grand time shagging her Sire. Wasn’t even meant to be behind my back. No shame on her part. There never was, no matter how many times she strayed. Could never blame her, she didn’t do it to be cruel. To me the important thing was that I loved her and was loyal and gave her everything I could. Don’t even know, in the end, if she ever even noticed.” He lapsed into silence.

“I’m sure she did, but maybe she just didn’t know how to show it?” Buffy was jealous of Drusilla for having so many years with him and angry at her as well for not appreciating it enough.

“I’d like to think that. And I shouldn’t make it sound like I was miserable. Right happy for most of it. Don’t think she would have understood this–“ His hand trailed down Buffy’s side to rest on her belly. “Though she always had her dollies…” he trailed off and his brows scrunched together.

Buffy slowly ran her hand up and down his arm. This was a lot to take in.

“Dru was clairvoyant. She’d see things. And, that last little bit in Sunnydale.” Spike stopped and shook his head. “She never wanted me to have much to do with her dolls. They were hers, but at the end she’d taken to pushing one or the other of them into my arms and telling me I had to hold them right, feed them, change them. She was on and on about it. Thought it was just more of her usual nonsense, but, maybe…she might have been seeing you and the girls.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say to that.

Spike’s eyes, which had been hazy with the past, cleared and focused on hers. “Don’t want you think I want to be anywhere else than right here with you.”

“I’m kind of jealous. She got a lot of time with you.”

“It all seems so long ago and far away. Like the only thing that’s ever been real is you, right now, right here.” He worked the arm that’d been squished between them so it was holding her and the hand that’d been petting her stomach wandered up to cup her breast.

“Spike,” she squeaked.

His mouth landed on hers. “Want to kiss you,” he playfully sing-songed.  His lips and tongue worshiped hers, leaving her breathless. When he pulled away she whimpered in protest, but he just clucked his tongue and pulled her leg over his hip. He shifted and the head of his cock brushed against her sex. “Want to love you,” he said in the same teasing tone.

Again?

His cock pushed more urgently against her and his need became hers. She reached down and guided him to her channel. “Love you,” she whispered as he slid inside her.

“Love you more,” he said, rolling his hips and making her gasp.

“Uh-uh, love you more.”

“Nope, love you more, and I can keep this up all day.”

“I bet you can,” she moaned.

Spike chuckled. “Not what I meant, but that too.”

****

_Two weeks to Christmas…_

Where the hell had the bloody hammer gotten to?

Spike poked at the boxes in the bedroom, frowning. He was sure it was in one of them and he wanted to put up the wreath they’d bought on their front door. Buffy was singing Christmas tunes along with the radio as she decorated their little tree.

He shifted a box to the side to search in the one under it. One look told him it probably wasn’t in that box, since it was full of Buffy’s stuff. A couple of books caught his eye and he pushed the cardboard flap out of the way to get a better look. _Black Beauty_ , _The Catcher in the Rye_ , and _Persuasion_. He lifted the latter and smiled. Buffy would be a Jane Austen fan.

There was the corner of a photo sticking out from under the front cover. He pulled it out. It appeared to be a senior portrait, the bloke in it grinning goofily from under a shaggy mop of hair. He was wearing a too-big shirt it looked like his grandmother had picked out for him. Spike flipped open the book’s cover. There were two more pictures. One was a candid snap of Buffy, not pregnant and wearing a white dress. She was laughing. It took Spike a minute to realize that the same guy was standing next to her, his hand on her lower back. Spikes stomach dropped. The third picture confirmed his fears. It was a military portrait with the name Riley Finn standing out in bold letters at the bottom of the print.

Spike sat down hard. This was…this was…he couldn’t even think straight.

“Spike? Is everything okay?” Buffy asked from the doorway.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly.

She came over and knelt beside him, running a hand over his forehead. Belatedly, he realized he’d vamped out.

“You were growling so loud I could hear you over the music.”

“Oh.” He glanced down at the photos he was holding.

Buffy followed his gaze. “Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Where’d you even find those? I’ll trash them.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Put them back where they came from. One day…” He swallowed hard and forced the words around the lump in his throat. “The girls might have questions, someday. They’d be good to have to show them who their real dad is.”

Buffy sighed. She sat and leaned her head against his shoulder and took the photos from him. “He was just a sperm donor, Spike. That’s not even close to the same thing as being a father.”

Spike reached a hand out and laid it on her abdomen. His girls, all three of them. If the blighter ever tried to take any of them away…Riley would end up wearing his own bladder as a hat.

“You’re growling again,” Buffy said softly.

That he was. He went cold as he thought about Riley and Buffy. There was another scenario, one that didn’t involve Riley carrying her off caveman style. “Luv,” he started.

“Yes?” She was running her fingers up and down his forearm.

“What if he showed back up? Knocked on the door and waltzed in here, saying he’s sorry and wanted you back to raise his daughters with?”

Buffy grew still. “Why do you think I’d go with him?”

“Because he’s their father.”

“You’re their dad, Spike. Why would I trust the idiot who dumped me the moment he knew I was pregnant? He’d probably just do it again. You’re the guy who’s there for us, who cares for us. The man that’s promising them cakes with pink flowers on their third birthday and dresses to match.”

Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you were asleep for that one.”

“We need to have a talk. You’re going to spoil them rotten.”

“Of course I am.”

Buffy smiled and tucked the photos back into the book. He pulled her into his lap and nuzzled her cheek. He couldn’t push the demon away. It seemed as determined as every other part of him to keep him and Buffy together.

“You’re the one that loves us,” she said softly. He could have flown in that moment if she’d asked. “What are you doing in here, anyway?”

“Looking for the hammer so I can hang the wreath.”

“It’s in the kitchen, the drawer furthest from the stove. I cleaned all of the crap out of it last week and put stuff like that in there.”

“Explains why I can’t find it.”

She rolled her eyes. “The tree’s pretty much done, though you’ll have to put the star on top. I was going to start making a batch of my favorite peanut butter cookies. I hadn’t thought of them in ages and now I keep imagining how good they taste.” Her eyelids fluttered closed as she sighed.

“I think you better hurry. The craving sounds nearly terminal.”

“Yup.” She scooted around, got her feet under her, and paused. She wiggled again, braced her hands on his knees, and stopped. “Uh, Spike, I don’t think I can stand up.”

“I got you.” Hooking his arm around her, he stood, bringing her with him.

“That was embarrassing.”

He swatted her behind. “It’s for a good cause. Now get baking.”

She glared at him over her shoulder, but headed for the kitchen. He followed her, found the hammer, and took the wreath into the hallway.

Dalton, mug of blood in hand, showed up as Spike was gauging where he needed to put the nail. “You don’t see a lot of vampires decorating for Christmas,” Dalton said.

“Buffy deserves it,” Spike said. “Though, truthfully, I always liked the holidays. Were great when I was a kid. London always looked her best under a mantle of snow and I loved Christmas dinner.”

Dalton was leaning against the wall. “I’m guessing Buffy probably wouldn’t appreciate whatever you were eating back then.”

Spike grinned. “Probably not.”

“She brings it all back, doesn’t she?” Dalton looked wistful.  

With a couple of hits, Spike drove the nail home and hung the wreath with its cheerful red bow. “I don’t know if it was ever really gone, but she makes it okay. Don’t have to worry about being the big bad around her. Right now–“ Spike winked at Dalton. “She’s in there baking cookies.”

He looked at his mug. “Is she going to get grossed out if I dip one in blood?”

Spike hadn’t thought of that one. Eating cookies dunked in blood while standing in his home that smelled of Buffy sounded like paradise. “I think she’ll be okay with it. If she lets us have any.”

There was a clatter from the bottom of the staircase.  Dalton leaned over the rail to have a look. “Someone’s moving in.”

Spike joined him. The door to the empty apartment was open and the new occupant out. He looked familiar. Spike opened the door to his apartment. “Hey, Buffy, there’s a new tenant in Maureen’s apartment.”

“Hang on, I just set the timer.” She joined Dalton and him at the rail. A minute later the new tenant reappeared carrying a huge box. “Is that Clem?” Buffy asked.

“Think so.” Spike cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Clem!” he called.

The figure stopped and looked up. “Hiya Buffy and Spike! I didn’t know this was your building. And hi Buffy and Spike’s friend.”

Dalton waved.

“I’m just going to go set down this very heavy box,” Clem said, disappearing into the apartment.

“What are you two waiting for?” Buffy asked.

Spike raised an eyebrow. With a huff, she grabbed the hammer from him and Dalton’s empty mug. “Go help him move in.”

“Uh,” Dalton said, glancing nervously at the staircase.

“It’s easier to just do what she says, mate.” Spike clapped Dalton on the shoulder. “Trust me.”

***

Willow poured an extra sour sah’g…sah’gi…whatever for table nine and mentally ran over the list of elemental correspondences that she’d been working on memorizing. Tara was going to quiz her after work and not only did Willow not want to let Tara down, but if she got them all correct Tara had promised her a surprise. If it was anything like the last one…Willow’s toes curled.

She glanced over at her girlfriend, who was currently chatting with one of the regular bar flies. Tara was shy, at least until you got to know her. Willow was constantly amazed at the new layers and depths she kept finding out about her girlfriend.

Tara was from somewhere back east, but had run away at fourteen for reasons she hadn’t wanted to go into. Willow had the feeling she wasn’t ready to hear them yet, either. She’d drifted slowly across the US, eventually ending up in Seattle and running into Lorne two years ago. Until that chance meeting, Tara had been struggling to squish her magical abilities and to be as normal and unassuming as possible. Lorne had given her a job and the confidence to shine.

Sometimes Willow almost felt blinded by her girlfriend’s light.

Anya put her tray on the bar and Willow loaded up the drinks for table nine

It wasn’t the busiest lunch rush and Buffy hadn’t been pressed into service, remaining seated with Wesley and Spike as they went over books on demonology. A chair scraped the floor and Willow watched, amused, as Wesley huffily got up from where he was sitting and beelined his way over to the bar. “Coke, please,” he asked primly.

“Sure you don’t want a shot or two of rum in that?” Willow asked.

Wes sighed. “No, thank you.” He took his drink and leaned against the bar, staring at where Spike was animatedly telling Buffy something, gesturing broadly with his arms while she watched, enraptured.

“So what’s today’s lesson?” Tara said, coming up beside Willow and putting her hand on the small of Willow’s back.

“Fyarl demons,” Wes said with a frown. “Turns out Spike has not only worked with them in the past, he knows all the best ways of killing them, and, to top it off, he speaks Fyarl. This afternoon I was going to have her practicing side stepping and backhanding something larger than her that’s charging. I’ve started having this elaborate fantasy where she manages to stab Spike in the kidney.”

“Poor Watcher,” Tara said and patted Wes’ hand where it lay on the bar. “She cares about you too, but it’s a bit hard to compete.”

Wes grumbled something as he took another drink.

“It’s nice to see Buffy looking so happy,” Willow offered. “She was so sad and alone. I always wished I could do more for her. And while Mr. Vampire wouldn’t be my first choice for boyfriend material, Buffy really likes him.”

Wes shook his head. “Not my first choice either, but as much as I don’t understand it, they certain seem meant for each other.” He turned his back on the couple with a sigh. “How’s your training going, Willow?”

“Really well!” She smiled. “I’ve been working with the basic elements a lot, and while with my hair you might think I’m more of a fire person, I’m actually air. Knowledge is power and that kind of stuff.”

“She’s doing great,” Tara added and Willow felt herself blush.  

“That doesn’t entirely surprise me,” Wes said, leaning forward a little. “Tell me, have you tried–“

He was interrupted as the phone rang shrilly.

“I’ll get it.” Tara picked up the receiver, frowned, and held it out towards Willow. “They’re asking for you.”

“Hello?” Willow said into the phone.

“Yes, is this Miss Willow Rosenburg?” a harried female voice asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m calling because you’re listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Alexander Harris. There was an accident this morning at his work site and I’m sorry to tell you that he’s currently in the Trauma Intensive Care Unit here at Harborview Hospital. Do you have somebody that can drive you here?”

Willow knew her hands were shaking, but she couldn’t feel them. “Yes, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Thank you. Room 226.”

Willow hung up. Tara was immediately beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“Xander’s in the ICU. I need a ride,” Willow forced herself to breathe. Across the room Buffy and Spike, concern on their faces, had stood and were making their way over to the bar.

“What happened?” Lorne asked from beside her. She hadn’t even realized he’d come out of the back.

“Ac-ac-accident. They didn’t say what. Just that I needed to go up there.”

“C’mon Red,” Spike said, waving a hand towards the door. “Brought the car today.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Taking off her apron she handed it to Tara, who stopped her and ran to get Willow’s coat before she left. Outside, Buffy put a warm arm around her as they waited for Spike to pull the car around.

“I bet he’ll be okay,” Buffy said. “You know Xander, there’s not a lot that can keep him down.”

Willow’s teeth were chattering even though she wasn’t cold. “Yeah, I h-hope you’re right.” The alternative was much too scary.


	19. Green Jell-o

And the wreck of you is the break and the fall

                -Soundgarden, “Limo Wreck”

 

****

Buffy sat beside Willow in the backseat of the Spike’s car as he made his way, cursing and honking, through Seattle’s busy streets. She didn’t say anything, just kept her arm around her friend. At the hospital, they lucked out with a close parking spot and hurried inside, getting directions to the ICU.

Once outside of the closed doors, Willow pulled out of Buffy’s grasp and leaned against the wall. “I can’t do this,” Willow said. “Xander’s my best friend, what if I have to say good-bye?”

“I don’t know.” Buffy’s voice was rough. She’d dealt with a lot of loss, but not this kind.

Spike shoved his hands into his pockets. “You live and you remember.” His words made Buffy shiver. Willow closed her eyes, but nodded.

Buffy picked up a white phone that was set into the wall and was greeted by a tired sounding woman’s voice. She explained who they were and the woman told them someone would be right out. A minute later the doors opened and man in blue scrubs walked through. “Willow?” he asked.

Willow raised her hand.

“Hi, I’m Paul, Xander’s nurse.” He eyed Buffy and Spike. “I’m afraid there’s only two visitors at a time.”

“You birds go ahead,” Spike said. “Xander’s going to want to see you, not my ugly mug.” He sat in one of the plastic waiting room chairs and picked up a magazine with a grimace.

“This way.” Paul led them down the ICU’s hallway. There were a lot of machines, most of which beeped, and a lot of very sick looking people. It also smelled less than pleasant. “Hey, Xander, look what the cat dragged in.” Paul pushed back a curtain and there was Xander, looking as pale as the sheet on the bed, but very much alive.

“Hey,” Xander croaked. Willow rushed to his side and took the trembling hand he held out.

“What happened?” Willow asked.

“I can’t remember.” Xander glanced at his nurse.

“That’s pretty normal,” Paul said. “All I know for sure is his right leg got crushed at work.” Buffy looked at the bed, noticing for the first time that the sheet wasn’t laying normally.

Xander smiled weakly. “I’m part terminator.” He tugged at the sheet, but wasn’t strong enough to remove it.

Paul glanced at Willow and Buffy. “You two okay seeing this?”

Buffy nodded. “I’m tough.”  

“Me too,” Willow said, even as she bit her lip.

Paul drew the sheet to the side. Xander’s leg was mostly wrapped in gauze, but all the skin that was visible was deeply bruised. His foot was swollen and uncomfortable looking, but what made her gasp was that from thigh to ankle metal pins were sticking up out of his leg at regular intervals. Long rods that ran parallel to his leg joined them together. “It’s called an external fixator, or ex-fix for short,” Paul said. “His leg’s busted up pretty bad and the surgeons had to piece it back together. That contraption holds it all in place while it heals, but he won’t have to be in the ICU the entire time. He’s just here because he had a femoral artery laceration and bled a lot.”

“Complete oil change,” Xander said. He pointed to his neck where there was a large IV. A line led to a bag of blood hanging on a pole.

“He’ll get some color back soon.” Paul adjusted something with the IV.  Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, taking Xander’s other hand between hers. He felt like ice. “How’s your pain?” Paul asked. “Need any meds?”

“Nah, I’m still good,” Xander replied.

Paul gave him a thumbs up. “I’m going to go check on my other guy. I’ll be back in a bit. Use the call light if you need anything.” The nurse left, pulling the curtain closed behind him.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Buffy asked.

Xander shook his head. “I remember being on the job site. It was a little weird, quite a few of the guys had called in sick. I went out to check on some concrete we’d poured the day before and the next thing I know I’m waking up in Hotel Painsville.”

Willow made a face. “That sucks.”

Xander’s eyes dropped to stare at his leg, which was once again covered by the sheet. “What are we going to do?” he asked hoarsely.

“I’ve still got a little cash,” Willow said.

Buffy looked back and forth between her friends.

Xander sighed. “After the truck’s new radiator you helped pay for, the increase in the electric bill, and with them jacking up the rent…you know it’s not going to be enough.”

Buffy squeezed Xander’s hand. The apartment Willow and he shared was one of those places you paid week-to-week. If you couldn’t pay, you were gone. “We’ll work something out,” Buffy said, very familiar with the resigned looks on her friend’s faces. She’d worn it often enough. Another move, another loss, maybe a little time spent sleeping in shelters or on the street. Food and personal hygiene would be on the back burner for a while. “I swear.” She looked into Xander’s eyes. “It’ll be okay.”

“Thanks, Buffy.” Xander smiled slightly and leaned back against the pillow. He was asleep in seconds with his head listing to the side. Willow kept ahold of Xander’s hand.

Buffy took a deep breath and rubbed at the top of her belly, where one of the girl’s behinds was pressing. “What do you think?” she asked Willow.

“I don’t know, besides that this is scary.”

Buffy nodded. Something felt off to her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the whole situation felt wrong. She needed to talk to Wes and maybe Lorne.

The idea that Xander might have been hurt because of her was terrifying. What made her special, out of the undoubtedly thousands of pregnant teenage girls in the city?  

The nurse reappeared with a tray in his hands. There wasn’t a lot on it: soup, iced tea, juice, and green jell-o. He put the meal-tray on the bedside table and Buffy moved so it could be wheeled into place. “Time to wake up.” Paul gently shook Xander, who opened his eyes and sighed, probably less than thrilled to find out the hospital wasn’t a dream. “As little as it is, you need to eat so you’ll get better.” Paul patted Xander’s shoulder and was gone again.

Xander frowned. “Haven’t they tortured me enough? This is both cruel and unusual.”

Buffy picked up the jell-o and stuck a spoon in it before handing it to Xander. “The voice of experience says the jell-o is not terrible.”

Xander took a bite and made a face. “If that’s not terrible, I’d really hate to see what food you consider bad.”

****

The ride back to the bar was mostly silent. Willow sat alone in the back, her face pale and her fingers clasped together. She jumped when a car cut them off and Spike growled. Buffy didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. The world seemed scarier than it had yesterday.

Back at the bar Willow ran straight into Tara’s arms. Spike went to the bar and reached over it, nabbing himself a glass and a bottle of whiskey.

Buffy headed for where her concerned-looking Watcher was sitting with Lorne. She sat and few seconds later Spike, drink in hand, collapsed into the chair beside her.

“We need to talk,” she said to the group.

“How’s Xander doing?” Lorne asked, rubbing his temples. It looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Buffy frowned. He really needed someone that took care of him, since he was always busy making sure other people’s lives were running smoothly.

“He’ll be alright, eventually, but he’s messed up pretty badly right now.” Buffy ran the hem of a napkin through her fingers. “He’s going to be out of a job and lose his apartment.”

Both Wes and Lorne frowned. Before either one could say something, Clem came bustling over with a tray piled high with food. Willow was trailing after him and Tara had drinks. The bar wasn’t busy and Anya had been left to handle things. Favorite comfort foods were handed out all around, even Spike got a plate of wings alongside a mug of warm blood.

Buffy’s treat was ruben sandwich with extra sauerkraut and a lemonade.

“Is the news about your friend bad?” Clem asked, looking at everyone’s faces.

“Bloke’s going to be alright,” Spike said. “Eventually.”

Wes had a shepard’s pie in front of him. “Buffy was just telling us he’s going to be out of a place to live, which means Willow as well.”

“Um,” Tara spoke up. “This may be a little sudden, but if you want to, Willow, you can live with me.” She blushed.

Willow’s mouth dropped open. “I’d love to…” she trailed off. “If it’s not too much of a problem, I can help with rent and bills, and I’m really neat and tidy, and I know you have a cat and I love cats and–“

“It’s okay,” Tara broke in. “I was thinking about asking you anyway, I kind of like being around you.”

Willow grinned.

Beneath the table, Spike’s hand squeezed Buffy’s knee. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, but not his lips because, ew, buffalo wings.

“Does Xander like the Seahawks?” Clem asked.

Willow wrinkled her nose. “I guess so? When he was making more money last year I know he had a special package from the cable company so he could watch the games without them being blacked out.”

Clem nodded. “I’ve got that. Maybe…um…he seemed like a nice guy at Thanksgiving, and I’ve got a spare room, so if he wants I wouldn’t mind him living with me. Do you think he likes Cheetos?”

“I can say with good authority that Xander loves Cheetos,” Buffy said. “When he’s out of the ICU we’ll all go visit him and you can ask him. About Cheetos and sharing an apartment. Thank Clem.”

Clem smiled shyly at her.

“So, here’s the thing.” She took a drink of lemonade and put the glass down harder than she meant to. “I’m not sure what happened to Xander was an accident.”

“What?” Willow gasped.

Lorne looked defeated. “Go on.”

“I can’t say entirely why I feel that way, but it’s a hunch. A great big fat hunch. I think we need to check out his construction site and Lorne, maybe you could put out some feelers in the demon community, see if anybody has heard anything?”

“Yes, of course,” he answered straightening in his seat, his mind obviously ticking over ideas.

Wes was stabbing a carrot with his fork. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Buffy?”

She sighed. “No. I’m very aware who’d be behind such a thing.”

“Mr. Trick,” Tara whispered. Beside Buffy, Spike growled.

“But he can’t do this.” She slammed her hand down on the table, making everyone else jump. “I don’t have all the answers right now, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that my daughters won’t be born into a city where they have to be afraid. I get that Seattle supposedly belongs to him, but it’s my city too, and Lorne’s, and Willow’s, and Tara’s, and everybody’s who’s in this bar.” She was on her feet now.

Lorne was smiling at her and Spike looked awed.

“I say we don’t let anybody take away our city. I may not be a Slayer, but I’m not helpless. None of us are. We fight for what’s ours!” She slammed her fist into the table again, rattling dishes.

“What’s ours!” Lorne said, lifting his seabreeze.

“What’s ours!” everyone else echoed, clinking their glasses.

Buffy sat back down and sipped her lemonade. Spike tilted his head back and tossed back the rest of his whiskey, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Speaking of what was hers–

He set his glass down hard and turned to look at her with hooded eyes. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. He moaned, eagerly kissing her back.

Wes let out an exasperated snort, but Willow giggled.

Eventually she had to stop to catch her breath. Spike looked dazed.

“I’ll, um, go tomorrow to check out the construction site,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan.” Buffy licked her lips and his eyes followed every movement of her tongue. This time he that cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a lip lock. Part of her knew she should be terrified because she’d just declared war on Seattle’s demon mob-boss and she was a nobody. A pregnant nobody.

No turning back now.

Spike’s tongue stroked hers and all thoughts that weren’t him fled.

****

Dropping Buffy off at the Sun Thief and driving away had felt like torture, and not the fun kind. That’d been last night when, after the third time Buffy had forgotten she was supposed to be not be touching him while he pleasured her, he’d torn up a pillowcase and tied her wrists to the frame of the futon before spending a delightful hour with his head between her legs. Because he could, because she was his.

His demon rumbled its approval.

Spike was headed to Xander’s construction work site for a bit of snooping. He had it on good authority that the place was still shut down after Xander’s incident, so hopefully he’d be alone as he tried to figure out whether or not it been an accident. He was hoping it was and that Buffy and Lorne were just paranoid. The idea that someone had deliberately hurt a person his girlfriend cared about was almost more than he could handle.

It’d been raining all morning and he could see that the site was a muddy mess as he drove by. Since he was down by the Kingdome, which was scheduled to be demolished, parking wasn’t an issue. He got out and leaned casually against the side of his car and lit a cigarette. He scanned the area while he smoked, but it seemed to be deserted. The wind was chilly and Spike wondered if there might be snow for Christmas. He liked the idea of waking up on Christmas morning with a warm Buffy while the world lay under a crisp white mantel. He looked up at the sky, not sure who to ask for that kind of a miracle. Not that they’d listen to a vampire’s plea, anyway. He settled for hoping.

Crushing his cigarette out under his boot heel, he made his way to the front of the site. There was a chain-link fence around the perimeter, but it was one of the rent-a-fence kind and it was child’s play for him to snap the plastic ties holding two sections together and slip through. He crunched over the gravel to the site’s main office, which was a lonely trailer below a billboard that was advertising a new Egyptian exhibit coming to the Science Center.

Spike smiled, imagining two little girls clinging to his hands and making faces while looking at the mummies. A couple of his mum’s friends had been all atwitter about Egyptian this and that over tea and he had some stories from back in the day that would scare the twins silly. Not that Buffy would let him get away with telling stories that would curl their hair. Well, she wouldn’t be around all the time. A good ghost story was fun, and he wouldn’t make it too frightening.

Looking for security cameras or an alarm, he circled the trailer, but nothing stood out. With a shrug, he broke the lock on the door and entered. The place was stuffy. In the light from the window he could make out plans for the place. It was going to be one of those generic hotels that looked fancy but really weren’t.  There was a red X marked on one of the sheets, and Spike guessed that’s where Xander had been hurt. Glancing out the window at the skeletal state the hotel currently was in, Spike quickly worked out which direction he needed to go.

There was a rack with hard hats and he briefly wondered if he should grab one so if anyone else showed up he’d at least look like he belonged there. He snorted. Maybe if he was lucky it’d be a cop, an Indian, and a cowboy.

That was a no on the hat.

Though maybe he could steal one on his way back, Buffy might be down for a bit of role play. Only Xander was the real construction worker and that could get weird really quickly.

So still a no.

Spike exited the building humming _YMCA_. He picked his way through the puddles, pulling his duster tight around him as it began drizzling. The scent of blood let him know when he found the right spot. There was a crane and a pile of steel girders that lay jumbled on the ground. That must have been what crushed Xander’s leg. He had to have lost a hell of a lot of blood for the odor to still be hanging around despite the rain.

Crouching, Spike inspected the girders. They were solid and heavy enough that he could barely lift the end of one when he tried. It was impressive the boy hadn’t been killed. Spike frowned. Had murder and not injury been the plan all along? Not an idea to share with Buffy, she was worried enough as it was. He sat on the end of one of the girders and lit another cigarette.

He wasn’t a blasted detective and didn’t know exactly what he was looking for. Sitting here alone and cold in the mist was not his idea of a good time. He wanted to be at home with his girl. He closed his eyes, imagining their snug little apartment smelling like pine and gingerbread. Buffy wearing nothing but a Santa hat. Oh yeah, that was more like it. He took a deep drag of his smoke. In his fantasy her smile was naughty as she dropped to her knees and undid his pants. “I thought you could use an early Christmas present,” she purred before wrapping her hot mouth around…

The wind suddenly gusted, blowing the rain sideways and into his eyes. Spike sighed and stood. Not really the place for those sorts of thoughts anyway.

“Calm down, mate,” he grumbled to the front of his pants. His prick didn’t answer or particularly quit with how it was pressing against his zipper. With a muttered curse, he adjusted himself, then froze as the sensation that he wasn’t alone washed over him. Moving with inhuman speed, he spun around and caught sight of some kind of demon as it gazed at him through the chain-link fence. It took off running and Spike knew there was no way he was ever going to catch it. His stomach turned to ice. It’d seen him clearly walking about in the middle of the day, and he’d bet his eye teeth it hadn’t just happened to be taking a stroll.

There was a very real chance it was going to get back to Mr. Trick that there was a vampire who was immune to sunlight. Bloody hell.

Spike kicked the ground in frustration and yelled as his foot caught on something, making him stumble. This day was sodding terrible. Royally brassed off, he grabbed what’d made him trip out of the mud. It was a cable. His brows came together. He followed it back to the pile of girders. It must have been holding them together at one time, maybe as the crane lifted them? He traced it back the other way and pulled the end out of the mud. One edge was frayed, like it’s snapped, but most of the cord’s width was smooth. It’d been cut. All it would have taken was for someone to start lifting the girders with the crane when Xander had walked by and presto, one kid in the hospital.

Buffy’s friend getting hurt hadn’t been an accident.

Well, bugger.


	20. Prawns

You've got to promise not to stop when I say when

            -Foo Fighters, “Everlong”

****

_One week to Christmas…_

The mall was a zoo. It'd turned out that wars only declared by one side were boring. Nobody had seen hide or hair of Mr. Trick for days and while they'd been researching him and Buffy'd been practicing self-defense, in the end Christmas had won out against being paranoid.  

The holiday was rushing at them and life had returned to mostly normal. Buffy had even eventually convinced Spike, who’d been standing guard over her, that she had to go shopping without him hovering, though he had insisted she didn’t go alone. Willow had therefore been roped into accompanying her to SeaTac Mall.

Spike’s head had been on a swivel when he’d dropped them off, but eventually he’d left to presumably do his own shopping.  He’d been so jumpy lately, with good cause, but Buffy really hoped Mr. Trick would lay low over the holidays. The world could use some peace.

“Bench,” Buffy huffed, gratefully sinking down to sit on the hard plastic of the mall’s attempt at seating. There was a big ad next to the bench advertising an Egyptian exhibit that was coming to the Seattle Science Center. It wouldn’t be all that long before she’d be taking two little girls to every museum in town. She plopped her bags at her feet and rubbed a hand over her belly.

Willow sat next to her. “Poor Buffy,” she said. “That’s a lot of extra person to be carrying around.”

“Twenty-seven weeks, which means I’m officially in my third trimester. Yay?”

“Yes, yay! It means I’m that much closer to being an aunt.” Willow played with the straw in her drink for a second. “Are you scared?”

“Of what?” Buffy asked, wishing she could kick her shoes off and massage her tired feet, but she wasn’t sure she could reach and decided it was better not to risk it.

“Um, the whole giving birth thing.”

Buffy felt her face fall. “Yeah. I want to get them here and I really don’t want to be pregnant anymore, but it’s kind of terrifying. And while before it seemed a long way off,” she looked down at the distended curve of her stomach, “it could be any time now.”

“Isn’t it too early still?” Willow asked.

“Pretty much. At our last appointment the doctor said that if they were born now there was a better chance of them surviving.” She protectively wrapped her arms around her middle. “But I’m hoping they stay in there until they’re all kinds of done baking. Though on the ultrasound pictures they look like real little people now.”

“Oh! Do you have the pictures with you?”

“Spike has them, but, uh, you might or might not want to ask him about it.”

Willow raised her brows. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll be stuck listening to him forever. After the appointment we went to go visit Xander at the rehab place and when Xander how the doctor’s visit had gone, Spike spent an hour monologuing about the girls. Even I got bored by the end and they’re my babies!”

Willow giggled. “He’s so cute over them.”

“He really is.” Buffy smiled, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky. She could remember, when she’d been heaving what little she’d had in her stomach up, how she had wanted Riley to ride back in on a white horse and make things better. She was lucky that hadn’t happened, he would never have cared for her, Dawn, or Anne like Spike did.

Her boyfriend would fuss over dinner to make sure she ate well, then rub her feet while they laughed at some dumb show on the TV before slyly ask her if the kiddies had gone to sleep so he could make love to her. It was impossible for her to imagine Riley doing any of those things. And Spike was way better looking, especially when he took his shirt off…

Willow laughed.

“Huh, what?” Buffy said.

“You went all dreamy eyed there for a moment and tuned out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more stupidly in love than you two.”

Buffy blushed. “He’s not perfect. He leaves his wet towels on the floor.”

“Oh no, how can you stand it!” Willow gasped before dissolving into giggles again. “That rated a 9.5 on the pathetic scale of trying to sound like no one should be jealous of you.”

“Quit it. And speaking of love, how did moving in with Tara go?” Buffy rubbed where Dawn was busy jamming her heel against her. Ouch.

It was Willow’s turn to blush. “It’s gone really well. And her kitty even likes me.”

“I knew that,” Buffy said, putting her hand over her mouth as she laughed.

“Oh my goodness…Miss Buffy Summers! That vampire of yours is a bad influence!”

“He’d love to hear you say that. What did you end up getting Tara for Christmas?” They’d been too busy shopping to pay attention to what the other was buying.

“I got her a skirt and a couple new shirts at Goodwill the other day, but you’re going to think I’m cheesy.”

“Try me.”

“I got her a little stand to put on her dresser that holds earrings and it’s in the shape of a willow-tree.”

Buffy smiled softly. “Willow, that’s the most romantic thing ever. You win.”

“Why? What’d you get Spike?”

“Um, some shirts and socks so far. We agreed to put most of our extra money towards things the babies will need, like high chairs and cribs, but I still want to get him something special, only I have no idea what. I looked at cuff-links because that sounded sort of like him, but they’re small and I got worried one of the girls would swallow them.”

Willow shook her head. “You’re so a mom already.”

“Does that mean boring?”

“No. I don’t think anyone would ever accuse you of that.”

Buffy kicked at the floor. “Spike’s going to be a really great dad.”

“Duh,” Willow said. “Didn’t we already cover that?”

Buffy laughed, but then drew her brows together. She could see Spike standing in the kitchen, the girls in their high chairs. He was drinking his breakfast… She gasped. “I know what to get him! Where’s that novelty store?”

“This way!” Willow bounced to her feet and took off into the crowd.

Buffy awkwardly pushed herself up, then realized she’d left her bags on the floor. “Willow!” she called.

Her friend turned around and made a face. “Sorry, I’m all excited girl.” She grabbed Buffy’s shopping and handed it to her, then intrepidly headed off again. Buffy groaned and tried to keep up.

Puffing like a freight train, she caught up with Willow in front of the mall’s novelty shop. It was starting to feel like Dawn and Anne were actively trying to keep her lungs from expanding. Ugh. “Girls, you need to let mommy breathe,” she panted.

“This place, right?” Willow asked.

Buffy nodded and pushed through the Christmas crowd to the rear of the store with Willow trailing behind her. After several minutes of searching Buffy crowed in triumph. From amid the collection of plates with pictures of Elvis and an endless variety of Precious Moments figurines, she picked up a mug and handed it to Willow.

She turned it so she could see the writing: ‘World’s #1 Dad’.

“It’s perfect!” Willow gasped. 

Buffy smiled, pleased her friend thought so.

“We should probably check out and head for the exit. Spike will freak if we’re late meeting him,” Willow said, narrowing her eyes at the long line at the register.

That was the truth. Buffy’s stomach growled. “Or before the pregnant lady decides eating holiday shoppers is an okay substitute for dinner.”

****

_One day to Christmas…_

At least she wasn’t the only one, Buffy thought as she glanced around the interior of the brightly decorated building. She wasn’t even the only pregnant one. She eyed a brunette woman with an obvious baby bump who was standing with her arms crossed and impatiently tapping her foot.

When she’d walked to the monorail station with Spike and ridden it down to the Seattle Center area, sitting at a table while her boyfriend excitedly ran around like a five-year-old hadn’t been what she’d been expecting. Though, when she caught sight of him chatting with another guy about the giant model train exhibit that was on display, she smiled. He looked relaxed and happy, and a little boredom on her part was worth that.

She pulled out her compact and was checking her makeup when Spike showed back up beside her. “You have to see this!” he cried, taking her arm and helping her to stand. He led her around the far side of the set-up and pointed at…was that a model graveyard? There was fake snow, and a little engine pulling a few cars clickity-clacked by.

“What am I looking at?” she asked cautiously.

“See that one there? The crypt with a window?”

Buffy leaned forward. She’d totally missed it, but indeed, in the little graveyard the crypt had a window and through it she could see a lit-up Christmas tree, and a vampire–his fangs were visible and he was wearing a Halloween-vamp type outfit–was hanging stockings over a fire that appeared to be crackling. It was cute, but something was missing. It took her only a second to figure out what was wrong. “He looks lonely,” she said.

Spike frowned. “Hang on.” He tugged on her sleeve until she was standing between him and the train operator who he’d been chatting to earlier. After a quick glance around to make sure no one else was watching, Spike reached across the barrier and picked up the figure of a blonde girl carrying packages that’d just come out of a store. He placed her in front of the crypt’s door, then stood back to admire his work. “There, see? She was just out doing some last-minute shopping like all you bloody women do.” Buffy couldn’t argue that one as she had several bags hanging from her arm with presents for Xander, Clem, and Wes.

“That’s better.” Buffy blinked as her hormones went wacky and a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

Spike looked alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

“No one should be alone on Christmas,” she sniffed.

“Oh, kitten.” He cupped her face and leaned in to tenderly kiss her. She slid her arm around his shoulders and held him as close as she could with seven months of twin-belly in the way. There was an indignant noise and Buffy turned just in time to see the pregnant brunette lady glaring in their direction. She’d obviously gotten tired of waiting and appeared to be trying to haul her significant other off by the arm. Apparently, PDAs were too much for her, so Buffy smiled sweetly and snuggled back against her boyfriend as he put his arms around her and rested his hands on her belly. “That’s my favorite,” Spike said as a miniature steam engine came tooting by. “Reminds me of when I was a lad. Going that fast seemed such a marvel.”

She forgot all about judgmental jerks. “Yeah?”

“Used to beg my mum to take me down to the train station to see them.” Buffy put her hands over his. He sounded very far away. With a sigh, Spike leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder.  They watched the trains circle around a few more times. “When Dawn and Anne are old enough do you think we could have one that goes round the base of the Christmas tree?” Spike asked.

Buffy snorted. “Sure, knock yourself out. Have the girls help you though, so you’ll have someone to ooh and aww over this with.” Spike nibbled at her earlobe.

“Not your cuppa?”

“Not remotely.” Her stomach growled. “Subway for dinner?”

Spike stepped back and turned her around, he was wearing a look of mock horror. “Cheap sandwiches on Christmas Eve? I think blasted well not. I’ve got a better idea.” He interlaced his fingers with hers and led her to the exit, where they stopped so Buffy could do up her coat. It was chilly outside, even for Seattle in winter.

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as they walked into the grey light of early evening.

“How about there?” Spike said, gesturing upwards with his chin.

“The Space Needle?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it’s got some right fine food.”

“But, Spike, it’s Christmas Eve. It’s going to be packed.”

“Sure, but when you have six pm reservations for a window seat…” He grinned and winked at her.

Buffy stopped and gaped. “You what?”

“C’mon, don’t want to be late.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

“Nobody has ever done something like this for me.” Buffy couldn’t believe it. Dinner at a place that had cloth napkins and that you needed reservations to get in?

Spike looked a little sheepish. “Well, it was my idea, but Lorne got me the reservations. He knows a guy who knows another guy, etcetera.”

“Thank you,” she said, still stunned.

Inside the base of the Space Needle, Spike took her coat and ushered her over to the elevator. Her stomach dropped as the car sped upwards and even Dawn and Anne squirmed in protest. All three of their heartrates must have shot up because Spike started rumbling soothing things in her ear and stroking her arms. In the restaurant, which was indeed packed, a harried looking waiter led them to their table that overlooked the city.

Outside there was still enough light to clearly see everything. Both she and Spike ignored the menus at first to goggle at the view. They were facing Puget Sound where a ferry was churning its way across the lead-colored water. The waiter came back to ask about drinks. Buffy got water but Spike ordered a beer after interrogating the waiter about what was on tap.

They cracked open their menus. “What looks tasty, pet?” Spike asked.

The prices were scary. “Um…maybe a salad?”

Spike’s menu dropped onto the table with a thump. “None of that. Didn’t bring you here for you to eat nothing but rabbit food. I’ve got more than enough for you to get whatever your heart desires.”

“Okay, uh.” She looked through the array of food again. It was all a lot fancier than she was used to. “The prawns sound good.”

Spike nodded before he took a sip of his beer.

“I still want the rabbit food on the side. With Thousand Island dressing. What about you?”

“Sirloin steak, rare. Preferably mooing. I’d be good if they just frightened it with the grill.” He tongued one of his canines and she narrowed her eyes at him, suspecting he was just teasing her.

“I thought I was the one that staked you?” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

Spike smirked. “Seems to me I’m the one staking you lately.”

She knew she blushed deep red as he waggled his eyebrows at her. To her mortification, the server came back right then, but Spike ordered for both of them smoothly.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she grumbled once the waiter left.

“I could be.”

It took her a second, but when she figured it out she kicked him under the table. “Be nice.”

“But I’m a bad, rude man, baby. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dang it. She pouted because he was right.

Spike leaned forwards and took her hand in his. “You have no idea what that pouty lower lip does to me,” he muttered in a low voice.

She looked up into his eyes. “I know perfectly well.”

He chuckled and sat back. “You’re a wonder, luv. There’s nowhere, no when, and no one else I rather be than right here, right now, with you.”

God help her, she believed him. “I love you,” she said, suddenly shy under Spike’s intense stare.

“I love you too.”

Dinner tasted better than anything she’d ever dreamed of. However, she didn’t realize quite how much she was moaning over it until she noticed Spike had quit eating and was leaning halfway across the table, pretty much panting while making googly eyes at her. Oops. She looked out the window where night was falling and the lights of the city were coming on. “Oh, look! The Pink Elephant Car Wash! That’s been my favorite sign since I was a kid.”

Spike returned to his food with a put-upon sigh. “It certainly stands out.”

“This is the best night ever.”

“Yeah?” He looked bashful.

“Yeah.”

Downtown came into view, the tall buildings reaching for the stars.

Her heart was already there.

****

_Christmas…_

The air on his face was chilly, but the rest of him, snuggled under the blanket with Buffy, was deliciously warm. Spike forced his eyes to open, even though waking up sounded like a terrible idea. But it was Christmas morning! And there were presents!

He almost jumped out of bed, but then frowned. Dawn was kicking at his hand where it rested on Buffy’s belly. This was the very last Christmas morning he would be able to sleep in for a very long time. He glanced towards the kitchen, where the clock on the microwave read 7:30. So he curled back around his girl, nuzzling into her hair. His demon was clamoring to come forward so he let it. The honeyed scent that was all Buffy became sharper and more nuanced.

He loved that and reveled in the deep, animal instinct that whispered to him that she was his. He’d dreamed of this instant, but it was sweeter than what his imagination had been capable of coming up with. He belonged here, in his home and with his girls.

“Hey,” Buffy said sleepily, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Uh,” he grunted, ashamed to be caught sniffing her in his demon guise. He started to push it back, even though the bloody thing really didn’t want to go.

“No, wait.” She lay back down and tugged his arm back over her. “It’s okay, but were you smelling me?”

There was no getting the fangs to recede now that she’d given him permission for them to be there. Giving up, he settled down with his head on his pillow and moved his hand so he could lightly stroke her breast with his claws. “Yeah, um, about that…”

“Go on.” He could hear a smile in her voice.

“I, uh, see…the demon…it…”

“Is it like a separate thing?” she asked, squirming her ass back against him. “The demon?”

“Not really.” He pushed his hips forward so he could rub his erection against her rear. They were still naked from their lovemaking the night before, but that had been then and this was now and with the demon riding high he wanted her worse than badly. “It’s, I suppose, easier to think of it that way, but it’s really not. Might hard to explain, but it’s not like I’m possessed and there’s two of us in here fighting for control or something.”

“Ah, but that still doesn’t explain the smelly thing.”

He bit the tips of two of his claws off and snuck his hand between her thighs to tease her clit.

“That part of me…it’s more animal. It likes how you smell, a lot.”

“What do I smell like?”

“Home, family, love.”

“Oh,” she gasped, then moaned as his fingers found the perfect rhythm against her swollen nub. “Spike, that’s…beautiful.”

He lined himself up with her opening, which was more than wet and ready, but paused. “Luv, are you okay with me being with you, like this, right now?”

“Yes, of course. It’s part of you and I love all of you.”

He couldn’t hold back and surged inside her to the hilt. The demon crowed its triumph at her choosing it. He growled softly against the back of her neck and was surprised at the fresh rush of arousal from his girl. Hell, yeah. There was no mistaking that Buffy really was okay, more than okay, with his demon side.

Moving in short, sharp strokes he thrust his cock over and over again into the welcoming heat of her body and gloried in the sense of life she radiated. The walls of her pussy clenched and fluttered around his prick as she came. His name tumbled from her lips and the sound made him tremble. He stroked his hand over her body, from the soft skin of throat to the hard tips of her breasts, down over the swell of her abdomen, to again capture her clit and drive her into another orgasm.

Spike knew he’d never tire of the way her pussy grabbed at him as she keened out her pleasure.

“I love you,” he muttered against her throat. “I love you, I love you, I love…” He groaned as his own peak hit, the bliss a tsunami that radiated out from where he was joined to Buffy and threatening to carry him under. At last he collapsed against the bed and snuggled up against her back as tight as he could. “This is what I wanted for Christmas, to wake up and be with you. Oh, Buffy, you have no idea.”

“You’re far more than what I ever dared to dreamed of,” she said softly, her fingers trailing over the back of his hand. He could have happily stayed that way forever. The demon, sated, receded to the back of his mind. After a while, Buffy shifted. “Um, is it time for presents yet?”

“I guess it can be.” Bloody hell, did they have to get up?

Squealing, Buffy pulled away from him to sit on the edge of the bed and he sighed as his prick slid from her heat. It’d been nice in there. “Wait,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I have a special one to give you first.” He pulled the wrapped box out from under his side of the futon and sat up beside her. Buffy was adorably trying to cover her nakedness, but gave up when her eyes landed on the box. She snatched it out of his hands and eagerly shredded the paper.

“It’s not that exciting,” he said with a chuckle.

“Is too! It’s a prezzie!” She opened the lid of the box and her eyes went wide. Carefully she lifted out the gold necklace with its heart-shaped pendant. “Dawn and Anne,” she read. “Oh, Spike.”

“There’s a bit more on the back,” he said gruffly. “I hope I didn’t assume too much…”

She flipped the pendant over. “William?” She looked confused for a second, but then she gasped. “That’s you, the name you were born with.”

“Yeah, um, thought maybe it’d be nice for you to have some way to carry us all with you even when we’re apart.” May it’d been overly romantic? A flight of fancy from that fool part of himself that should be dead. She was going to think he was a giant sap–

“Oh my god, I love it. And you three are written on my heart already.”

His own heart ached as love gave it the echo of a beat.

“Here, put it on me, please.” She held up her hair and Spike surprised himself by being able to hold his hands steady enough to do up the clasp. “Thank you, but now it’s your turn.” She bounced to her feet and his gaze followed her as she trotted to the tree and picked out a brightly wrapped cube from among the other gifts, which were mostly things that the twins were going to need. He shifted to the other side of the mattress and she sat beside him, handing him the gift.

She looked impatient as he carefully removed the paper. Under it was a brown cardboard box.  He opened it and pulled out a plain white mug. Well, he guessed he never could have too many of those. “Tha–“

“Turn it around, you dolt,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He did. ‘World’s #1 Dad’ the bold lettering proclaimed. Oh, balls, he was going to cry.

“Spike?” Buffy asked, sounding worried.

He carefully placed the mug on the bed and gathered her into his arms as his face crumpled. “I love you and Dawn and Anne and…oh god, I’m so happy.”

Buffy cradled him against her and soothed him. He got ahold of himself quickly and went to kiss her, but no sooner had his lips met hers than she wiggled in his arms. “Spike, I’ve got to pee!”  

He let her go, and since she nabbed her nightie on the way to the loo he pulled on his own pajama pants.

There’d been one more wish, but there was no way…

Pulling open the blinds he was greeted by a dazzling white world. It’d snowed. Laughing, he threw open the window, and grabbed a handful of the stuff, shaping it into a ball.

“Spike?” Buffy asked as she came out of the bathroom.

“It snowed!” he yelled, throwing the snowball at her. He’d meant it to go over her shoulder and hit the wall, but to his surprise her hand came up and she caught the damn thing, though it fell apart on impact.

Her eyes narrowed and he found himself making a break for it as she dashed after him with a handful of snow. He tried to dart around her but she caught the back of his pants and dumped the handful of snow in. “Okay, that’s cold,” he grumbled.

“You’re a vampire,” she snorted.

“Just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean I want snow on my ass and balls, woman.”

She giggled. “You started it.”

“Shower to warm up?” The snow was in all kinds of less than comfortable places as he went to shut the window. “I can give you another present.” He wagged his tongue at her and her eyes lit up.

“Yes, please!”

Spike grinned. The girl really did like her prezzies.


	21. Tea

But it's on the table.

                -Temple of the Dog, “Hunger Strike”

****

Teetering on top of a ladder while pulling down decorations from the Sun Thief’s New Year’s party was not at the top of Spike’s list of fun things to do.

New Year’s Eve had been tough for him. All the past ones had seemed to pile up like derailed train cars. It’d been a spectacular wreck he’d had a hard time looking away from. Quietly toasting in the New Year with his mum while she gently chided him over still being unmarried and he’d always promise that by the next year there’d be a grandchild on the way. Hadn’t happened, obviously.

There’d been so many wild nights with Drusilla. They’d always be in a big city so they could range from party to party and pick off the drunk and stupid. Sometimes, as midnight approached, they would take out an entire group and shag on the floor amid the corpses as the radio, or later the TV, counted down the seconds. It’d seemed eternal. There’d always be another year together, another party, another chance to kiss. Until there hadn’t been. Forever had turned out have an expiration date. _Elle est morte, et n’a point v_ _écu._ Dru had been sick their last New Year’s together. He’d held her and petted her hair while they’d watched celebrations on the telly. She’d rambled on about nonsense like she always did.

If someone had told him, on the stroke of midnight–when he’d gently pressed his lips to Dru’s sweet, familiar ones–that a year later he’d be an invited guest at a party and snogging a very warm, pregnant potential that he valued beyond belief…well, he wouldn’t have just killed the messenger, he would have ripped the git’s intestines out and choked him with them.

Add in: ‘you’ll no longer be hunting and killing your dinner’, and Spike would have laughed the entire time he mangled the idiot who’d dared to utter such impossible accusations.

“You okay up there?” Lorne asked from where he was bracing the stepladder.

“Sodding wonderful,” Spike growled as he ripped down another streamer.

“You seem tense.”

Spike jumped from the ladder to land in a crouch next to Lorne before straightening up. “I…I’m still trying to figure things out, mate. Year ago, I was trying to kill a Slayer and heal my Sire, the woman I thought was my immortal destiny. Spins my head that now I don’t care that I had beef blood for breakfast and that I’m two seconds away from having a bleeding meltdown because my girl isn’t where I can see her.” He jabbed a finger towards the closed door of Buffy’s training room.

Lorne chuckled. “I think fate was playing games for a long time with you, muffin. Let me pour you a drink.”

“Well, that sounds alright.” Spike trailed after Lorne and leaned against the bar as Lorne placed a tumbler on the counter and filled it with a couple fingers worth of halfway decent scotch. There was silence as Spike took a sip. “Games, huh?” he said after a moment.

Lorne tapped his fingers on the top of the bar. “You tell me. How odd is it that a vampire who’s worked for a century to make sure not only other demons are scared of him, but Slayers and Watchers too, just one day ups and dumps all that off a cliff so he can cuddle with a human?”

“Buffy,” Spike snapped. She wasn’t simply some human.

“Does your demon ever fight you over that? Does it howl for her blood?”

His fangs started to descend and Spike hastily swallowed the rest of his drink. “It’s screaming for yours for suggesting such a fool thing,” he muttered.

“What had to happen, the good and the bad, in order for you to come into her life, did. I don’t think it’s chance you ended up on the same street at the same time.” Lorne crossed his arms on the bar and leaned on them.

“Me either.” There were so many could have beens and what ifs that would have made it so he and Buffy never crossed paths. What if during the Halloween debacle in Sunnydale he hadn’t been distracted by the Slayer’s friends and had ended Missy’s life then and there? Would he still be traipsing around with Dru? The demon rippled right under his skin, fighting for control. “Christ, would you quit it,” Spike snarled, itching his arm. “I’m not about to go anywhere without the girl!”

Lorne was watching him with an amused expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vampire-demon so attached to a human.”

“Bloody thing’s head over heels.”

“And you’re not.”

“Fair enough.” Spike sighed. “I just hope I can keep her safe.” He glanced towards the closed door again before leaning towards Lorne and dropping his voice. “You haven’t heard anything?”

“Nothing new, just the same rumblings that Mr. Trick’s got something in the works. I should know more soon and then we can figure out how to stop it.” The bags under Lorne’s eyes suddenly looked more pronounced as he slumped against the counter. The guy really needed someone to make sure he was taking care of himself.

Spike slid the empty glass back and forth on the counter between his hands. “Um, might be bloody poor timing on this, but I got a question to ask you.”

Lorne nodded. “Ask away, tea biscuit.”

“Well…here’s the thing. I had a bit of emergency money put back, just in case me and Dru every found ourselves in a tight spot. Grew to be quite a bit over the years. I’ve been using it for me and Buffy since, ah, my source of income dried up along with the on-tap blood.” Lorne actually looked sympathetic.  “It can probably hold us through another year or so, but, um…was wondering if you might know of any paying work for a vamp?”

“Running down demons for bounty pay,” Lorne said. “But there’s no contracts at the moment. How about I put you on retainer for now and as soon as something comes in–“

“Not looking for charity, mate,” Spike growled.

Lorne straightened up, though his hands remained firmly planted on the bar. Anything soft or cajoling left his eyes. “Keep Buffy safe. She’s important beyond the fact you love her. Her fate and the city’s are intertwined. Maybe all of existence’s. I’m not completely sure yet how or why. Is that blunt enough for you, vampire? You don’t want a polite fiction, then fine. I can afford a couple hundred a week to make sure you’re never too far from her. And when it is safe, you can catch some of these assholes that are giving the whole demon community headaches. Got it?”

“You need a vacation,” Spike said, taken aback by Lorne’s outburst. City? Existence? And his Buffy? Lorne had to be mistaken. It was hard enough trying to figure out the logistics of getting the twins born.

“Sure, sure.” Lorne sighed. “On the twelfth of never. We understand each other?”

Spike didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

“Now go help out with babycake’s training, Lorne needs a stiff drink, and if you look at that dammed door one more time I’m going to throw you through it.”

Spike slid his eyes away from the door guiltily. Buffy was right on the other side. Where else was he supposed to look? “Right, thanks.”

Lorne waved one hand wearily while accepting a seabreeze from Tara with the other.

Spike was worried about the guy, but all of him was clamoring to get to his girl, so with a last glance at the exhausted looking Lorne, Spike trotted towards the training room.

****

Buffy took a deep breath. Deep as she could, anyway. The twins were making that a lot more difficult than it used to be. Wes was wearing padded mitts and she was punching them in an easy one-two-three rhythm that felt natural.

It was almost like waltzing. Unbidden, a memory rose up of eight-year-old her dancing in the living room with her father, her feet on top of his. Her next three punches landed with more force and Wes grunted.

How could her father, a man who she’d thought loved her, just kick her out the door? How had her mother let him? Her mom hadn’t said a thing as her dad had spewed hate at his only child. He’d called Buffy vile things, told her she was a disappointment, an embarrassment, and that she’d never amount to anything. A waste of time and money. His last words had stung the most: that he didn’t have a daughter anymore.

“Buffy?” Wes asked, concerned. She was standing there, unmoving.  

She held up a hand. “Just a moment.”

The words had hounded her and been an endless source of pain, but now they were even worse. Now that she was beginning to understand what a parent’s love of a child was and should be. It made everything with her own mother and father a million times more horrible.

She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to focus through the hurt. Her mind landed on Spike. She could just imagine Dawn and Anne arguing about who he was going to teach to dance first. Knowing him he’d probably put one girl on each foot and whirl them around. And if, eight years later, some idiot made false accusations about them burning down a gym for no reason, that person better hope they got out of town before Spike caught up with them. He would never let his daughters go through what she had. He would never let her go through it again.

Buffy put a hand on her bump. Her girls were squirming. Training often woke them up and they sort of worked out along with her, stretching and punching their little feet and hands. Buffy grunted as Annie managed to lodge a foot into her ribs.

“Should I expect sometime this century?” Wes asked dryly.

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Easy for you to say, somebody isn’t jamming their toes into your rib right now.” She rubbed at the spot, but Anne wasn’t budging. Spike strode in, raising an eyebrow at how Buffy was poking her belly. “They’re not behaving,” she said.

He ran his hands over her stomach. “Girls, are you not minding your mum?” Both babies wiggled into more comfortable positions under his sure touch.

Her shoulders slumped and she pouted. “That’s not fair.”

Spike chuckled. “Dad voice.”

Wes huffed. “Spike, I’ve been running Buffy through drills. Would you care to take over for a while so I might have a spot of afternoon tea?”

Spike nodded absently, though he frowned when Wes tried to hand him the mitts. With a put upon sigh, Wes dropped them in a plastic milk crate and left. Holding up his hands, Spike nodded for her to show him what she’d been doing.

She straightened her back and launched into the set of three punches. The sound of her fists smacking against Spike’s palms was much more satisfying than the muffled noise they’d made on the mitts.

“Again,” he said.

She did, but then he stopped her and corrected her form, spending a little more time than was necessary running his hands over her shoulders and arms. She repeated the punches and he grunted in approval. After a couple more rounds he stopped her again for more corrections. His hand wandered to her hip, and then stroked down and back up the inside of her thigh.

“Time for cardio?” she breathed.

“You better bloody believe it.”

****

The tea wasn’t half-bad. To Wes’ surprise, Willow had been listening when he’d described the proper way to make a pot. She was sitting with him, a magical ethics books open on the table in front of her, while she took a break.

“It all seems so gray and vague,” she said, flipping over another page.

“There are a few absolutes.” He nibbled on a biscuit and frowned at the young woman.

She nodded. “No impinging on free will being the biggie, but then it starts nuancing out what free will means, and who knew there were so many meanings to the word truth?”

Wes chuckled softly. “I do suppose it can all be rather a twisted web. I find the best policy is to ask. Either you girlfriend, Lorne, or I would gladly be sounding boards if you find yourself in need of such.”

“Thank you.” She looked up at him, wide eyed. “But since I can barely convince a pencil to hover a millimeter off a desk, I’m probably good for a while.”

Wes smiled in a way that he hoped was encouraging as Willow went back to her reading. The redhead had a lot of latent talent. Sooner or later it was going to wake up and God help them if she didn’t have a firm grasp on the basics and an understanding of magical consequences by then.

Draining his tea, he took the dishes to the back before returning to the training room. Buffy had to be getting tired by now and Spike was probably bored silly. Wes glanced down at his watch as he opened the door and walked in. Maybe Buffy would be alright with finishing up reading that section on Brenul demons before heading home for the day.

Or maybe not.

Wes’ jaw dropped. It was the middle of the afternoon! People didn’t do that in the middle of the afternoon!

Buffy had one hand braced on the table, its usual piles of books and weapons were on the floor where they’d obviously been hastily pushed. Her other arm was wrapped around her belly and her pants were missing. Spike, with his jeans around his knees, had ahold of her hips and was rogering her hard and fast. They both looked so enthralled that the entire building could probably have fallen down around their ears and they wouldn’t have been aware of it.

Feeling a bit like he’d walked in on a grizzly bear and it’d happily not noticed his presence yet, Wes backed as silently as he could to the door and let himself out. Of course he ran smack into Anya, but luckily her tray was empty.

“You’re pale. Did you see a ghost? Not eat enough protein?” she said, hands on hips.

“What? No, just–“ He gestured weakly at the closed door.

Anya’s brows drew together for a moment, but then she snorted and shook her head. “I’ve told them they should go to the bathroom to boink, but they’re really not very good at listening.”

“Wait, that’s not the first time?”

Anya laughed. “You tell them to practice things that require physical touching and then wander off to chat, or have tea. What did you think they were doing?”

“B-b-but,” Wes stammered. “She’s pregnant.”

Anya set her tray down hard on a table and the loud noise made him jump. “Wesley Wyndam-Pryce! I cannot believe you!”

“Er–“

“I thought better of you.” She shook a finger under his nose. “Are you one of those men that think pregnant women are hideous? It’s a good thing she’s not your girlfriend, you’d be leaving her miserable.”

“What? No I don’t…I have no problem with…she’s a mum and it’s the middle of the afternoon!” He said in a rush. If Fred were pregnant he’d have no problem sleeping with her. His brain got a little stuck on the image.

Anya crossed her arms. “Excuse me? Because Buffy is a mother she can’t want sex?”

Wes winced. There was no way out of the hole he’d just dug himself.

“That is the most–“ Anya made an inarticulate sound of rage. “Do you have any idea how many vengeance wishes I’ve carried out because of a lame-brain man who thought things like that? Having a baby doesn’t elevate a woman to sainthood or make her less interested in orgasms. That sort of attitude will end up with someone cursing your penis to fall off.”

He reflexively put a hand over his groin.

“Personally, I find it refreshing that Buffy and Spike are so in love and that things like being a vampire or pregnant doesn’t get in the way of them expressing it. “ Anya pointed at the bar. “You go sit down and think about how wrong you are.” She picked up her tray, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and stormed off.

Wes was left feeling like he hadn’t communicated very well that he was traumatized from seeing his potential and her vampire boyfriend going at it much more than the fact that Buffy was pregnant and having sex. With a sigh, he sat on a barstool.

Tara slid a coke over to him. “That looked like a full-on Anya lecture,” she said.

“Yes, well, I suppose I deserve it. I also learned a valuable lesson about knocking on the training room door before entering.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “We’ve told them to do that in the bathroom, but once they get going I think they forget other people exist.”

“Am I the only individual in the entire universe who didn’t know they were screwing back there?”

Tara’s smile was warm. “Probably?”

Wes dropped his head into his hands. “There wasn’t any preparation for this at the academy.”

“I should hope not.” Tara chuckled. “But you have to know Buffy isn’t doing it because she’s being disrespectful. She thinks very highly of you and wants you to be proud of her, but she’s also head over heels in love and that’s a really powerful force.” Tara looked over his shoulder and Wes followed her gaze to where Willow was serving sandwiches to a peaceful demon family.

“I can see your point,” he said. “I’m going to grab my book. Don’t suppose a pint would be out of the question, would it?”

“One coping mechanism coming right up!”

Wes nursed his beer and worked on the novel he was reading. Buffy eventually came out of the back, Spike’s arm around her shoulders and her face flushed. It was impossible for Wes to begrudge her the happiness she’d found. Especially when he had a date tomorrow with Fred.

Clem came out of the back carrying multiple Styrofoam containers of food. “Late shift’s taking over,” he said. “I’m bringing dinner to Xander, but I made a ton extra. Anya, Lorne, how about you coming along to keep us company as well as to help polish off the food?”

Anya perked up. “Give me two seconds to get presentable.” She undid her apron and rushed into the back.

“She’s sweet on Xander,” Clem said to Wes when he gave the cook a puzzled glance. “Though the kid’s so down on himself, what with being hurt and out of work right now, that I think I might have write ‘Anya likes you’ on top of a cake before he’d notice.

Lorne ran a hand through his hair. “You go on without me. I can–“

“Don’t think so.” Spike’s hand landed on Lorne’s shoulder. “You look like you haven’t eaten in a week. It’s bad for business if you keel over.”

Wes thought Lorne was going to shrug off the vampire and tell him no, but then Lorne sighed deeply. “A good meal wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yay!” Buffy said. Much to Wes’ consternation, she kissed him on the cheek. “See you tomorrow!”

“Uh, yes, good night,” he said awkwardly.

Spike looked at him askance so Wes stuck his nose back in his book as the group, rejoined by a primped Anya, made their way out of the bar.

Tara set a fresh beer down. “He’ll keep her alive.”

Wes stopped with the pint glass halfway to his mouth. “Yes,” he said quietly. There was that. “I do hope so.”


	22. Barbeque Ribs

Don't know what it means

                -Nirvana, “In Bloom”

****

Clem’s living room wasn’t all that big, but everyone fit in, even if they were tripping over each other. It felt homey. Buffy claimed the only armchair for herself, pregnant lady’s prerogative, because she had a fighting chance of being able to stand back up from it. Dinner for most of them was ribs, potato salad, and baked beans. Spike had gotten his own container of buffalo wings that he’d handed to Buffy to guard while he ran up to their apartment for blood.

“Hey.” She caught his wrist as he walked by. “Why don’t you bring Dalton down with you?”

Spike raised a skeptical eyebrow. “He’ll just be waking up.”

“I know, but he can have his breakfast with us.”

“He’s a bit of an introvert, luv.”

“Duh, which is why you should drag him down here, he needs to know we’re thinking about him and want him around even if he’s not interested in doing it very often.” She widened her eyes and batted her eyelashes at her boyfriend. When he didn’t seem about to cave, she stuck her lower lip out and he gave like wet tissue paper.

“Right, I’ll be back with some blood and a ticked off vamp in just a minute.”

Pleased with herself, Buffy leaned back and balanced her plate on her belly. At least it was good for a few things.

Clem had his ridiculously large TV turned on to some football game. She figured it was a college one because the team names were just a bunch of letters. She might have been a cheerleader, but she’d never bothered to learn more than she absolutely had to about the sports she’d been cheering on. She’d been more interested in the players themselves.

Buffy sighed. In a different universe she was wearing the purple and gold and cheering on the UW Huskies. In that universe, she lived in the dorms, snuck the occasional beer, had a boyfriend who was in a fraternity and had never even met Riley. She wasn’t pregnant and she had a car that worked. She went out and partied and had lots of friends and her only worries were early classes and late homework.

There was a push to her insides as one of her daughters stretched.

Buffy took as deep of a breath as she could to hold back her tears, because in this hypothetical other universe there was no Dawn or Anne growing under her heart, and there was certainly no ‘80s reject, bleached blond vampire who loved them, or her, more than anything else in existence. Her heart ached at the thought of never knowing Spike or her girls.

She glanced around the living room. She would have been sad to never know this ragtag group as well. Clem in his Seahawk’s jersey even though they weren’t playing. He was yelling excitedly at the screen. Xander was in his wheelchair, his leg still with its pins and sticking straight out. Anya had brought him a plate of food and Xander looked scared to death since she was halfway in his lap and seemed to be finding every excuse to give him a look down the front of her shirt.

Lorne was sitting on the couch but not eating. Maybe he really hadn’t been hungry? He was pale and his eyelids were drooping like he was nearly asleep. His eyes snapped back open as Spike thumped the door open. “Hey all, this is my mate Dalton. Dalton, you know Clem, and the others are Xander, Anya, and Lorne.” Spike sat down on the floor and leaned back against the chair in between Buffy’s knees. He set his blood on the floor and reclaimed his wings. “Did I miss anything?” he asked Clem around the chicken stuffed in his mouth.

Clem launched into some explanation that could have been in Chinese for all Buffy understood of it. She waved at Dalton. “Hi!”

“Hello,” he said with a lopsided smile. The only open seat was on the couch next to Lorne, and Dalton perched himself on the very edge of the cushion. He was drinking his blood and nervously glancing around the room.

Lorne was watching him with an amused smile. “Buttercrisp, you look more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” he said to Dalton, who promptly almost choked on his blood.

“Uh, sorry. I don’t really do…people.” Dalton waved his hand at the room.

Lorne raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“Uh…” Dalton gulped down the rest of his blood. He toyed with the empty cup for a minute before sneaking a glance at Lorne. His brow furrowed. “Do you not like barbeque?”

“Clem does great barbeque,” Lorne replied. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head back against the couch.

“Then why aren’t you eating?”

“Ribs are messy and eating them off the bone would take too much work right now. Even getting up to make a plate sounds like too much work.” Lorne let out a deep sigh.

“Hey, Buffy,” Spike said. He’d twisted around to where he could see her. She looked down at him. His lips were orange and he had one cheek full of chicken and she hoped that was blue cheese dressing on his shirt. She didn’t know whether to be exasperated with him or if he was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

“Yeah?” She realized Xander and Clem were looking at her as well. Lorne appeared to be asleep and Dalton was missing from the couch. She could hear him clattering around in the kitchen.

“Have you seen that commercial?” Spike asked. “The one with the lizard and the microphone?”

“Sure, who hasn’t? It’s cute.”

Spike turned back around. “See, told you. It’s for women.”

Buffy felt like she’d completely missed whatever they were talking about and that she should probably cuff Spike on the head, but he was safe since her bump was in the way.

“It’s the tongue, isn’t it? The damn thing can lick its own eyeball.” Xander stuck his own tongue out and Anya giggled. Spike swallowed the chicken he’d been pack-ratting and stuck his tongue out as well, going cross eyed as he tried to see it.

Buffy decided threatening him with sleeping on the floor would have no effect since he’d know she didn’t mean it. Instead she ignored the middle-schoolers she was apparently eating dinner with to pay attention to the TV. The game was on a commercial break and she pretended to be deeply interested in the ad for the Egyptian exhibit that was about to open at the Science Center. It actually looked pretty cool with all the statues and mummies. There was even a newly discovered artifact that had never been displayed before. She bumped Spike with her knee. “Do you think we can go to that?”

“Sure,” he replied, leaning his head against her leg. “Good practice for when we’re hauling the girls to everything even remotely educational.”

Dalton returned from the kitchen, a plate of food in his hands. He sat down on the couch again, a little further back this time. “Lorne?” he said. When he got no answer he gently jostled Lorne with his elbow. “Lorne?”

Lorne opened his eyes. “I’m alive…mostly.”

“I, uh, brought you some food. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really look like you could use something to eat and a long nap.”

Lorne was staring bug eyed at the plate.

“I hope it’s okay. I cut the meat up so you could eat it with a fork.”

“For me?” Lorne looked more dumbfounded than Buffy had ever seen him.

“F-F-or you.” The hand Dalton was using to hold the plate shook slightly.

Lorne’s face lit up as he accepted the food. “Carrot cake, you’re a find. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Dalton awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose. “C-c-carrot cake?”

“You have glasses.”

Buffy was melting at the cuteness emanating from the couch. As Lorne ate he and Dalton kept sneaking glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. She got distracted, however, when Spike’s hand began running up and down her calf.

“You thought anymore about all those questions Fred asked us to go over before our next appointment?” he asked quietly.

“Some, we’ve still got most of a week.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. During their last appointment, Fred had given her and Spike a printed sheet with a surprisingly long list of questions about the birth process and first few months of the twin’s lives. Some of it was easy, like Spike was the only person she planned to have in the delivery room with her. Willow was a great friend, but she didn’t need to see Buffy produce human beings out of her body.

Though to be honest she wasn’t sure Spike needed to see that either. It was going to be yucky and gross. He’d probably never sleep with her again, but she knew there was absolutely no way he’d be anywhere else than with her. Also, she was scared enough of delivering the girls, going through it without him was an impossibility. Yay, miracle of life.  

“Did you have time to consider whether or not you’re going to feed the nippers with bottles?”

“I’d like to try to breastfeed. The overwhelming amount of information points to that being the best for the girls’ health, but, really, it’s whatever gets them fed. I want pudgy, happy babies.”

He rocked up on his knees and turned to completely face her. He set her empty plate on the floor before leaning forward and resting his head against the swell of her abdomen. He stroked one hand up and down her side. “You sure, luv?”

“Pretty much, why?”

“It’s just I can’t help much that way.”

“Mmm, sure you can. You get up out of the nice warm bed and bring me the girls to feed. When they’re done, you change their diapers and get them back to sleep. I’m really going to not be complaining.”

Spike smiled. “Putting me on nappy duty already, are you?”

“Totally. That’s my secret evil plot.”

“A master villain you are.” He eyed her chest.

“Does the girls getting dinner from you mean those pretty titties of yours are going to be off limits to Da the entire time?” His hand snuck up her chest and hooked into the low collar of her shirt, dragging it down even further.

She batted his hand away, though her nipples had already tightened down. Damn hormones. “I don’t have any clue how that’s going to work. I want to say of course not, but I’d die of mortification if my milk let down and you got a mouth or eye full.”

His hand crept upward again and his pinkie scraped over the bud of her nipple as he yet again tried to get a better view of her boobs. She leaned back and he looked pouty. “Vampire here. That doesn’t even sound close to gross. And couldn’t it happen anyway?” His voice dropped to a barely there whisper. “I could be given it to you hard and fast and before you know it you’d be leaking…” he trailed off as his eyes glazed over.

Buffy felt she should be icked out or at least turned off, but instead her sex was pulsing excitedly. It would have been even stranger if Spike wasn’t so obviously into the idea as well. Breast milk wouldn’t harm a vampire would it? God, how was she supposed to ask Wes that without sounding like a complete weirdo?

Without warning, Spike gracefully jumped to his feet and pulled her along with him. Everyone turned from their own conversations, of which Lorne and Dalton looked to actually be having, to stare at her and her boyfriend. “Lovely evening, chaps, great food and company, be seeing you lot tomorrow.”

Buffy waved as Spike whisked her out the door. They managed to make it back to their apartment before he ripped her shirt off and closed his lips around her aching nipple.

****

Spike nervously tapped his foot. No matter how many appointments they had at the clinic, Spike always felt somewhat out of place. It was bloody ridiculous, but he kept thinking someone would look at him and simply know he hadn’t been the one to knock Buffy up and would call him on it. They’d stand up, point a finger at him, and yell that he was an imposter.

The doctor’s was the only place he felt like that. The girls were his as far as he was concerned, but underneath the garish institutional lighting and surrounded by humans with heartbeats and the ability to sexually reproduce, he felt like an outsider. You’re a dead, lifeless thing, his mind whispered to him over and over.

He tried to silence it, but it was loud. He leaned his head against Buffy’s and put a hand on her belly. She was fast asleep with her ear resting against his shoulder. Her ability to fall asleep almost instantly, anywhere, was impressive. The pregnancy was taking its toll on her, but she never complained. Not when she had to pee three times an hour, or when she couldn’t catch her breath, or when her feet hadn’t fit into her favorite pair of shoes. The last one had led to her making cute little growling noises that had brought his demon to the surface in a rush of affection. He smiled in fond remembrance of how she’d thrown a shoe at him.

There were a few other couples and a smattering of women by themselves in the waiting room. Buffy was the most pregnant looking of any of them. Spike was surprised just how much bigger her belly had become in only the last two weeks. The bump was still high and he didn’t think she was going to go into labor yet, but it was still alarming to see her struggling that much more to get around. There could be another ten weeks left in her pregnancy and he was frightened by how helpless she might be by the end.

He hadn’t wanted to say anything, since it wasn’t worth risking life and limb over, but she was starting to waddle when she walked.

“Buffy Summers?” the nurse called.

Spike woke her up and helped her stand. There was the obligatory weighing and peeing in a cup, which he honestly had no idea how she managed, and then he helped her up onto the exam table. The nurse measured her abdomen and listened to the fetal heartbeats before promising to send Fred in as soon as possible.

He leaned against the wall and watched Buffy where she sat on the end of the exam table, her shirt was still pulled up and she was running her hands over her belly. “I’m really pregnant,” she said glumly.

“I’d like to argue with you, luv, but you kind of are.” He chuckled.

Buffy shot him an annoyed look.

“Nothing wrong with that.” He pushed off the wall and put an arm around her shoulders. “It won’t be too much longer and I can help hold them,” he whispered into her hair.

“Oh, Spike!” She burst into tears and he didn’t know what to do except hug her tight.

Fred bustled in and looked up from her clipboard. “Is everything okay?”

“Mum’s just feeling a bit like a beach ball at the moment,” Spike said, accepting with a smile the weak punch Buffy landed on his chest.

Fred puffed out a breath. “I can see why. Thirty weeks in and you’re looking every second of it.” Buffy groaned as Fred helped her lay back on the exam table. The doctor began her usual listening, poking and prodding. Spike had seen it enough now that it no longer set off warning bells. Fred looked up at him as she examined Buffy. “Dad, don’t let this upset you, but I have a question to ask mom here.” Spike nodded, worry clawing at his throat. “Buffy,” Fred asked gently. “How tall was…the sperm donor?”

“Six foot two. I’m sure because I got to hear him say it all the time.” Spike relaxed a fraction at how annoyed Buffy sounded.

Fred assisted Buffy back to a sitting position. “That doesn’t surprise me one darn tootin’ bit with how your girls are growing. Each of your babies is right around three pounds, and thankfully they are both about the same size, but if you deliver near term they could be close to or at six pounds each.”

Buffy’s eyes got very round. “I’m going…twice…?”

Spike reached out to put a hand on her shoulder because it looked like she might faint.

“Oh, no!” Fred said, pulling off her exam gloves. “You won’t get twice as big, but you are still going to get rounder. I hate to say this, but you’re not that tall and those girls have to grow!”

Spike rubbed Buffy shoulder as she trembled. He was a little afraid too.

“Did you guys get a chance to talk at all about those questions I gave you?” Fred asked, poising a pencil over her clipboard.

“Some of it.” Buffy bit her lip. “I’m going to try and breastfeed and I also want to deliver vaginally, if possible, though I’m all for the epidural part. Because horrible pain doesn’t sound so awesome.” Buffy looked down as she adjusted her shirt. Spike frowned. He hadn’t really thought about the labor much. Buffy would be hurting and he wouldn’t be able to help her. His demon seethed at just the idea.

“Fred,” he said slowly. “I…I have a question you might not be able to answer.”

“Shoot, I’ve heard just about everything at this point.”

Spike snorted. “Not this. It’s about me.”

Both Fred and Buffy were looking at him expectantly.

He shuffled his feet. “I’m worried that, with Buffy hurting, that I might…the demon.”

“Would you hurt anyone?” Fred asked, pursing her lips.

Spike shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But the bloody thing’s going to want to be out in the open, not least when the girls are born. I can scent things better like that and getting to know the girls…”

Fred was tapping her pen against her clipboard. “How about we come up with a signal or something if you need me to clear the room?”

Spike nodded.     

“We’ll figure it out,” Buffy said, threading her fingers through his. “Is there an ultrasound this week?”    

“Next time, in two weeks. Then you’re going to be having weekly appointments until the girls show up.”

Buffy sighed dramatically and Spike chuckled. Chit liked to pretend with the dramatics, though she was more than willing to do whatever her little ones needed.

“And I’ve been talking to Wes about your physical training, it all sounds hunky-dory to me. Wish I could get half my patients to be so active. I also assured him that your other extracurricular actives were fine as well.” Fred gave them an exaggerated wink that made Buffy blush beet red. “Any other questions?”

“None from me,” Spike said but Buffy nodded.

“Going to the hospital…I don’t have any ID. When my parents kicked me out it was with nothing. I don’t know my social security number or anything. That’s going to make it harder, with the babies, isn’t it?”

Fred grimaced. “I can’t lie, it is. The whole process is a lot easier if you have your info. Is there no way you can get a hold of it?”

“We’ll get it,” Spike growled. Buffy’s fingers tore the paper on the exam table as they gripped the edge. He wouldn’t make her see her parents if she didn’t want, but he’d sure enjoy making the wankers squirm. “I’ll take care of it.”

Buffy’s chin went up. “No, we will.” The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. There was his warrior.

Fred patted her clipboard against her leg. “Then I’ll see y’all in two weeks. If anything odd happens with the girls or if you think of any questions give me a call.” Fred gave Buffy a hug and shocked Spike by shaking his hand.

Appointment completed, Buffy stopped by the desk to set her next one up before walking out into the afternoon sunshine with him. Spike immediately swiveled his head, looking for threats, but they were alone.

Buffy groaned when they reached the car. “We got fliered again.”  She pulled the leaflet out from under the DeSoto’s wiper with a grunt. “I hope it’s not for another one of those Asian massage parlors. Honestly, do they think people coming out of an OB clinic…” she trailed off as she looked at what she was holding. Wordlessly, she held it out to him.

He snatched it from her hand. It was an advert for the Science Center’s Egyptian exhibit, but across it in blood-red lettering was written: _He hasn’t forgotten. -A Friend._

Spike’s demon roared to the surface, but there were no lingering scents or other clues.

“Spike?” Buffy asked, her voice shaky.

“In the car, luv. We need to see Lorne.”


	23. Cotton Candy

Young girl, violence, center of her own attention

                -Pearl Jam, “Daughter”

****

Spike stared at the flier on the table. He was sitting with Buffy in a booth at The Sun Thief. Her hand was gripping his tightly under the table while across from them Lorne and Wes were wearing identical looks of worry.

“I have no idea who our little bird is,” Lorne said. “But I’m glad they’re singing.”

“I doubt it’s coincidence they scrawled this on an advert for the Egyptian exhibit.” Wes tapped a finger agitatedly on the paper. “I need to do some research, possibly at the university.”

“We could help,” Buffy said. Wes gave her a withering look that made Spike’s blood boil.

“Buffy would be a right good aide, Watcher,” he growled.

“I know that.” Wes rubbed his forehead. “I was more wondering what you’d be doing.”

Spike felt a headache of his own forming. He didn’t feel much like having a pissing match with the bloke at the moment, but since he didn’t have any other choice: “Tell me, Watcher, where did you get your degree from?”

Wes frowned. “Prior to the Watcher’s Academy I attended King’s College, London.”

“Not bad. Right respectable, that, but not Oxford?” He grinned as the lightbulb went on over the Watcher’s head.

“Oh,” Wes said inelegantly.

“Willing to bet my Latin’s better than yours. Plus I’ve picked up a few other things over the years, demon languages and the like I doubt even your fancy council learning covered.” Spike leaned forward. “Now, do we just need to whip out our-“

“Boys,” Lorne broke in. “You can do that later and we’ll let Anya judge.” Buffy made an indignant noise. “But for right now we have bigger, trickier fish to fry. Wes, we need answers. Take the witches and head to UW to get the ball rolling on finding us any clues you can. Spike, you and Buffy need to lay low until we’ve got a handle on this thing. Stay here tonight. Dalton can keep an eye on your apartment, I’ll give him a call so he knows what’s going on. And tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow.

Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand. “We got something to do up towards the mountain.” Buffy numbly nodded her head. “I’ll call you before we head back in, sound like a plan?”

“It does,” Lorne said. “Babycakes?” Buffy looked up at him. “That work for you?”

Her shoulders slumped. “It’s okay, just, everyone be careful. I don’t think I could stand someone else getting hurt because of me.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Wes said. “You take care of those babies.”

Spike couldn’t stay mad at the Watcher when he started saying things like that.

Buffy wrapped a protective arm around her middle. “I will.”

Wes stood, but he paused with a hand on Spike’s shoulder. Spike met the man’s eyes and gave a grim nod in answer to the question he saw there. He’d keep Buffy safe, no matter the cost.

****

“The sheets are scratchy,” Buffy complained.

“Sorry about the pea, princess,” he grumbled. The day had been a bloody exhausting mess and she was going to whine about the thread count of the sodding sheets? Wonderful.

Buffy didn’t reply, just huffed and rearranged herself. It wasn’t like he was thrilled to be in one of the bar’s guest rooms. Especially since Lorne had reminded them about the strict ‘no funny business’ rule which meant Spike couldn’t distract either himself or Buffy with a quick roll in the hay. Apparently a magical alarm would sound and Lorne would show up. Buffy would be mortified.

Finally, Buffy lay still. Spike tried to concentrate on the battered copy of _Slaughterhouse-Five_ that he’d found stuffed in a drawer in the room, mostly likely having been forgotten by a previous tenant. It’d seemed funnier the last time he’d read it.

It wasn’t until he smelled her tears that he realized Buffy was crying. The book was unceremoniously dumped on the nightstand as he cuddled up behind her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “Didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“It’s not you.” Her hand covered his where it rested on her stomach. “I’m just being silly.”

“About?”

“I miss our bed.”

He had the distinct impression she wasn’t just talking about the futon. The fact that Lorne had told them not to go home meant something different to her than the minor inconvenience it did to Spike, and he felt like a complete idiot to not have sussed that out sooner. “No worries, luv, we’ll be back in it in a day or two. The scratchy sheets aren’t permanent.”

She relaxed back against him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?”

“Um…Panama?” There was a barest hint of teasing in her voice.

“Not bloody likely. Canals are overrated and they have mosquitos the same size I am.”

She giggled softly. “Maybe Luxembourg?”  

“I try to stay away from places that blasted hard to spell.”

That time she laughed from down in her belly and Spike happily snuggled tighter against her.

“Maybe you’d be at Disneyland?” she said.

He groaned. “I can just see it now, you’re going to make me wear a pair of those sodding mouse ears.”

“With your name stitched on them.”

Spike hesitated. “Always wanted to go on the teacups. Do you think the girls will want to ride that one?”

Buffy ran her fingers up and down his arm, making the hairs stand on end. “Yes, until you’re all are so dizzy you can’t walk straight.” 

“Mom’s riding too.”

“Teacups maybe, but you three will be on your own if you do Space Mountain. Dark, rollercoasters, and Buffy do not mix.”

“Check. But we’re all going through the haunted house. It’ll be a hoot.”

“With you? I bet.”

He held Buffy as she drifted off to sleep. He wasn’t far behind her as visions of his daughters wearing princess dresses and stuffing their faces with cotton candy drifted through his mind.

****

The car window squeaked as Buffy rolled it down to let in the cool, damp air.  Like always, she felt too warm, and the seat wasn’t comfortable. She wiggled, sighed, and squirmed some more. It wasn’t like anything was ever comfortable anymore, but right now the seat of the DeSoto was especially bugging her.

“You doing okay over there?” Spike asked as he drove. The fingers of his left hand were tapping and twitching to a rhythm that Buffy suspected had more to do with him wanting a smoke than to the song on the radio.

“Fine,” she ground out.

His eyes slid over to her for a second before fixing back on the road. “It’s going to be okay. Either they have what you need or they don’t and we’ll go from there. If you want, you don’t even need to talk to the berks. I’m sure I can convince them to hand over your things.” His demon features flickered over his face.

It was tempting. Spike would be more than willing to fight her battles for her, but she knew she wasn’t willing to just hand over the reins like that. “No, I’m going to go in there and say what I need to say.” Spike’s hand reached over to briefly squeeze her knee before he returned it to the shift knob. “I’m just a little scared. They don’t have a say in my life anymore, but they’re still my parents.”

“The bastards threw you out, luv, don’t think they should even get the title parent anymore.”

Buffy ran her hands over her belly. Dawn and Anne were awake and kicking up a storm. “No,” she agreed quietly.

There was a moment of silence as the strip malls and housing developments slipped by on either side of the road. The traffic heading south wasn’t bad, but the other side of the highway, heading into the city, was gridlocked. She hoped it’d be thinned out by the time they were heading back.

Spike rolled his shoulders and sighed, then sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. The pace of his fingers tapping on the wheel increased. “Look,” he said after a moment. “Your mum and da are going to think it was me that–“ He gestured in the direction of her baby bump.

It took her a minute to figure out what the heck he was talking about and then she couldn’t think of why that’d bug him. “Everyone that sees us together, unless they know better already, assumes that.” She bit her lip. “Does that bother you? Do you not want people to think you’re the one that knocked me up?”

Spike sighed loudly. “No, that’s not– bloody hell.” He growled in the back of his throat. “You’re all my girls and I don’t rightly care who thinks what, but are you going to tell your parents it wasn’t me?”

“I’m going to tell them as little as possible. And since you’re the one that’s going to be raising their grandchildren…” she shrugged.

His shoulders relaxed. “If I need to, can I scare them silly?”

“Be my guest.” Buffy smiled as she rubbed her hand over where Dawn was doing gymnastics. She wondered if her parents would look the same. Would her mom still appear like she was always ready to run off to an emergency PTA meeting? Would her dad be any balder?

“Are the girls working on their football scholarships?” Spike asked.

“Football?”

“Yank,” he said affectionally. “Talking about what you backwards lot call soccer.”

“Ah. Yup, like always.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Instead of worrying about what the rest of the day would bring, she imagined watching Dawn and Anne playing soccer, first as preschoolers running like lemmings after the ball and later in a huge stadium with thousands of people cheering them on. Every time Dawn scored a goal or Anne blocked a tricky shot Spike would grab Buffy and hug her. She sure hoped the girls would play, even if she was a terrible soccer mom.

****

Buffy woke up to Spike gently shaking her.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you’re going to have to give me some directions here.” They were slowly cruising down the main street of the sleepy little town she’d grown up in. Enumclaw hadn’t changed much in the two years she’d been gone.

She stretched and yawned. “Left at the end of the block.”  She directed him through a few more turns, until they pulled up in front of a two-story house that was tucked among the tall pines. Its bland 1970s suburban styling matched the other houses on the block and its light gray paint and white trim looked the same as it had the last time she’d seen it, when she’d walked away with nothing but her tennis shoes, jeans, and t-shirt. She’d hitched a ride to Seattle with some older kids from her school and spent the night huddled between a parked car and a concrete wall.

She hadn’t ever thought to see the bench sitting outside the front door, that she’d painted with her dad when she was ten, or any of the ugly garden gnomes that her mom kept insisting were cute, but those things remained the same as she remembered. The two cars, a green four-door Jeep and a silver imported sedan, were the same as well. “My parents are still living here,” she said.

“Right. Showtime.” Spike jumped out of the car and slammed the door closed before hurrying to her side and helping her out. He reached into the backseat and grabbed the empty cardboard box they’d brought to load up anything she wanted to bring back with her. He handed her the box and she trailed after him as he strode up to the door. He shook himself and his big bad persona settled around him like a cape. Sneer firmly in place, he banged loudly with his fist on the door.

It creaked open a moment later. “Young man, I think you have the wrong house.” Her dad went to slam the door in Spike’s face, but Buffy stepped in front of her boyfriend.

Her dad stood there, stunned, and her mother’s frightened expression changed to one of shock as she caught sight of her daughter.

Spike put a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Hate to tell you folks, but this is the right bloody place. I’ve got a lady here what’s needing her stuff.”

Buffy glanced past Spike into the house. It looked the same too, almost like time had stood still since she’d left. If her parents had changed, she couldn’t tell. “Hi,” she said weakly. “Can Spike and I come in?”

“B-B-Buffy?” Her mother gasped and hung up the phone in her hands. She’d probably been dialing the cops, so Buffy was glad she didn’t warrant the police coming to drag her out. “Of course you two may come in.”

“I won’t be long,” Buffy said. “Do you still have my wallet? I need my social security card.”

Spike slammed the door closed and leaned against it.

“It’s in your room…” Her mother’s gaze was fixed on Buffy midsection. “You’re pregnant,” her mom stated, her eyes flicking from Buffy to Spike and back again.

Buffy couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped. “I’ve noticed.” She headed for the stairs, wanting the whole ordeal to be over. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d imagined that when she walked in her house her parents would be overjoyed. They’d hug her and sob out how sorry they were and how glad they were to see her. With that dream dead, she just wanted out. This house wasn’t her long lost home. Home was a tiny apartment stuffed full of baby things where she sat around with her boyfriend and watched terrible TV while he read pretentious books so it didn’t look like he was watching terrible TV.

And then he’d get bored and make love to her half the afternoon.

It was a much better way to spend a Saturday.

Spike straightened up to follow her, but Buffy paused, her feet on the first couple of risers, as her dad stopped Spike by clapping a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder. Spike immediately shrugged it off. “And who are you?” her dad asked.

Spike smirked. “As the girl said, name’s Spike.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Buffy said. Spike raised an eyebrow as her dad scowled.

“Aren’t you a little old for her?” her dad asked.

Spike snorted. “You wankers have no idea.” The laughter fled his face. “Also, you lot need to get off your bleeding high horse. Your little girl, who you kicked out of your lives when she was hardly more than a baby herself, shows back up and you want to pick on her choice of significant other? You want to know who the fuck I am? I’m the one that hold her when she cries, who laughs with her, who knows how she likes her oatmeal and who would never, ever leave her out in the cold.”

Buffy hurried up the rest of the stairs with Spike right behind her.

“Tossers,” she heard him mumble.

She pushed the door to her childhood bedroom open and stopped in her tracks. Nothing had changed since she’d left. The same lame boyband posters were on the walls and her bed was rumpled like she’d just gotten up from it. Her school textbooks were on her desk and her clothes spilled out of her closet along with her many pairs of shoes. It was just all covered in two years worth of dust. She set the box down on her quilt and looked around at the remains of her old life.

Standing in the middle of the room, Spike was decidedly out of place. “Oh, luv,” he whispered and wrapped his arms around her.

“I think the girl who lived here died,” Buffy said. That girl had been silly and shallow and didn’t know what it was like to starve or beg on a street corner. Or the joy of carrying a child and falling in love with someone she never would have expected to.

Spike was gently petting her abdomen. “I like the girl who’s here now.” He buried his nose in her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

Buffy smiled. “I think I do too.”

“Though I see her taste in music has not improved. Da gets to pick all the radio channels young impressionable minds are exposed to.”

“Oh goody, they’ll be dying their hair black in kindergarten and flipping off their teacher.”

“I’ll be so proud.”

Buffy playfully pushed him away. “You would.” The room was quickly losing its nostalgia and just becoming a place she used to live. She found her old purse on the top of the dresser and pulled out her wallet. Her social security card and ID were inside, though now the ID was expired. She dropped it in the box. She put her old stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo, in along with it, imagining one of her daughters snuggled up with the toy that’d been Buffy’s first childhood friend. The clothes looked too outdated and childish for her to want anymore, but she pulled a couple pairs of sky-high designer pumps out and dumped them in the box.

“Uh, Buffy?” Spike sounded like he knew he was playing with fire. “Those look a mite–“

“I’m not going to be pregnant forever.”  

“Well, then you can wear nothing but those.”

She made an exasperated noise that turned into a yelp as he pinched her rear. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, but his playful smile faltered as he glanced towards the hallway. A few seconds later her mother appeared.

“Buffy,” Joyce said softly. “Can I talk to you?”

“I guess,” Buffy replied. She flipped open the lid of her jewelry box and poked at the contents. None of it was stuff she’d wear anymore.

Her mom looked pointedly at Spike, but he didn’t budge.

“Whatever you want to say can be said in front of him.”

Joyce sighed and came to stand beside her daughter, working her jaw like she didn’t know where to start. “Who are Dawn and Anne?” she finally asked.

“What?” Buffy frowned up at her mother.

“Your necklace. It has Dawn and Anne on it.”

“Oh.” Buffy considered not answering, but finally she heaved a sigh. She patted the right front side of her stomach. “This is Dawn.” She used her other hand to indicate the left lower side of her bump. “And this is Anne.” Her mother’s eyes went wide. “Spike gave me the necklace for Christmas.”

“Oh, um, it’s very nice.” Joyce twisted her fingers together. “Are you getting along okay?”

Buffy frowned. “Me and Spike? Uh, yeah?”

Spike chuckled. “I think your mum’s asking if you’re doing alright.”

“Oh.” Duh. “I’m okay, now. It sucked all the times I had to sleep hiding under parked cars, or when I never had enough to eat and I kept crying.”

Her mom flinched.

“Or the times I had to run to keep from being raped, or the times I thought maybe I should just sell my body, because at least then I wouldn’t be hungry. Or all the times I felt so alone and wondered if there was even a reason a I was still alive–“

Spike’s hand wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her into an embrace, his arms settling protectively around her. “Shh luv, I’ve got you. Won’t let you ever feel like that again. I’ll always take care of you and my girls.”

She glanced over at her mom, whose face had gone pale. Joyce sat down hard on the bed. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” she mumbled.

Buffy put a finger against Spike’s lips to stop whatever he was about to say. “Yeah, um, thanks,” Buffy said. “I’m sorry for the girl you kicked out too. I’ll always wonder who she could have been, but it doesn’t really matter anymore, that girl’s gone and she’s never coming back. But the Buffy I am now? She’s a pretty cool one. She’s tough, she’s got great friends, she’s learning some neat stuff, and she’s got a kickass boyfriend. Oh, and by the middle of March she’ll have given birth to a set of twins. If you want to know that Buffy, go down to Pike Place Market and ask for directions to The Sun Thief. It’s where I work. They’ll know how to contact me.” She grabbed the box from beside her mother. “Time to leave,” she said to Spike. “There’s nothing more I need here.”

Joyce followed them out of the bedroom. “Buffy,” her mom said, her hand catching Buffy’s elbow.

She paused and so did Spike. “What?” she asked her mom in a clipped tone.

“I miss you.”

“Is that why my room is a museum? It doesn’t look like you spend a lot of time in there. Or you could have, y’know, searched for me. Or told the cops I was a runaway and had them search for me.”

Her mom bowed her head. “It wasn’t…Hank wanted to box up all your stuff and give it away, but I wouldn’t let him. I thought you’d come back. Um, come back sooner.”

“Mom,” Buffy said. “Dad said if I came back he’d see me rot in prison. I was sixteen. I believed him.”

Spike sighed. “Let’s go, luv. This episode of _Family Feud_ ’s getting old.”

She nodded and followed him down the stairs, her mom right behind her. “Hank!” Joyce gasped as they reached the bottom of the steps.

Buffy turned her head in time to see her dad take a swing at Spike. Oh, geez. Spike easily caught her dad’s fist in his hand.

“Have something to say, old man?” Spike asked, holding onto her dad’s fist when he tried to yank it back.

“You got my daughter pregnant, you son of a bitch, and you’re at least ten years older than her,” her dad snarled. Buffy gaped. Why did he even care?

“Try nearly a century and a half,” Spike growled. Slowly his face shifted and his fangs extended. All the blood drained from her dad’s face and he started trying to get away in earnest. Her mom spun away and hid her face under an arm.

Buffy sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Had enough fun yet?” she asked Spike.

“Not remotely.”

Her dad’s panicked eyes landed on her. “Help!” he cried.

“Why should I?” Buffy asked with a frown. “If my boyfriend–he’s a vampire in case you were wondering–wants to take a bite out of you what difference does it make to me? Didn’t see you caring when you put me out on the street.”

Spike snapped his fangs in front of her dad’s face and Hank screamed.

Buffy rolled her eyes.

With a last sniff, Spike let go over her dad, who collapsed to the floor. “You aren’t worth the effort to kill,” Spike spat as his demon features receded. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he guided her out of what had once been her home. The door thumped closed behind her the same way it had two years before, but this time she wasn’t on her own.

“Damn, that felt bloody good,” Spike said after squealing the DeSoto’s tires as they pulled away from the curb. The cardboard box was safely on the back floorboard.

Buffy punched his shoulder, but with no force behind the blow. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Then why are you grinning?”

Buffy couldn’t help it, she was smiling ear to ear. “Because I can’t tell you how many nights I wanted to see them all freaked out for making my life a living hell.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he purred.

“Wouldn’t mind you being of more service.”

Spike glanced at her and curled his tongue behind his teeth. “That could be arranged. Came through this half-horse town when I was…figuring things out. There’s a place up here I can get dinner and there’s a hotel a bit further on if you don’t fancy driving back to Seattle today.”

“Good idea!” Her stomach growled. “And can we stop at Zip’s? I want a vanilla shake, and lots of fries, with fry sauce.”

“Fry sauce and service it is.”


	24. Celery

I'm not the only one

                -Nirvana, “R*** Me”

****

The unassuming shop was in a row with several others. Buffy felt terribly self-conscious as she smoothed her blouse over her baby bump. She looked around one more time, but no one else was on the sidewalk. With a sigh, she pushed open the door to the butcher’s shop and walked into the refrigerated air of the interior.

The man behind the counter smiled at her warmly. It looked like the 60s had never really ended for him. Oldies were playing from a radio on a shelf behind the counter, something about somebody needing loving. She could sympathize with that, especially if an order of fries was thrown in.

“Hi,” Buffy said, very glad no one else was in the store.

“What can I do for you miss?”

“Um, well,” she didn’t know quite how to ask. The guy rested his hands on the counter and raised a brow. “I…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I want to buy a couple of pints of blood.”

“Are you making blood pudding for a potluck?” The man’s brow went higher and she didn’t miss how his eyes darted to a mirror and back.

“It’s for someone’s dinner,” she said, her face heating up.

When the butcher grinned and let out a loud guffaw, she didn’t know what to make of it. “This guy needing dinner wear a lot of black and have hair you can probably see from space?”

“Um, yeah?” Her eyes narrowed. She liked her boyfriend’s hair. He looked good with it.

The butcher chuckled again. “No need for that glare. I’m glad he found his way back to you. He was pretty messed up when I saw him.” The butcher punched her order into the till.

Buffy relaxed, though the whole situation was still puzzling her. This guy seemed to know an awful lot about vamps and he didn’t appear fazed at all by her having one as a significant other.  It was like he…    “Who?” she blurted.

“Hmm?” The butcher glanced up from the till at her.

“Who is it you know that was turned?”

His face softened. “My daughter. It took a while–“ He pulled down the collar of his tie-dyed t-shirt so she could see the top of a set of nasty looking scars before turning to take the blood out of a fridge. “But she’s alright now. Works nights at the library, hangs out with her old man on weekends. Listens to too much Sheryl Crow.”

When the butcher set the blood on the counter, Buffy covered his hand with her own. He smiled lopsidedly. She figured it wasn’t a very big club, humans who loved vampires and were loved in return. She let go and fished the money out of her purse, along with a card for The Sun Thief. “You ever need anything, call. Ask for Buffy.”

“Far out, thanks!” The look of shock on the butcher’s face as he handed her a couple of wrapped straws let her know he’d believed it’d always be him and his daughter alone against any problems the universe threw at them. Knowing they had back up probably was really cool.

She thanked him and walked back into the afternoon sunlight. It felt good to know she’d given at least one person in the world hope that they hadn’t had before.

****

The clerk behind the motel’s front desk had wilted when he’d seen Spike, but had still handed over the key to the room Spike had stayed in before. The kid hadn’t even said anything when Spike had used the employee microwave to heat one of the cups of blood Buffy had got him.

Seeing Buffy sit down on the bed, bag of fast food in hand, in the room that’d been the site of so much pain, had fixed something deep in Spike’s chest.  

Sucking the pig’s blood through a straw, he claimed the TV clicker before she could and flipped through the channels, settling on a Doctor Who rerun.

Buffy spread out her bounty of fries and fry sauce and dug in. He lay on his side next to her and stole a few. She was right, Zip’s fry sauce was delicious. Before he forgot, Spike called Dalton and left a message for Lorne that included the hotel’s number in case there were any updates on the research front.

Buffy munched happily and stared at the screen. “Why’s he got a piece of celery pinned to his coat? In case of an emergency outbreak of bloody marys?”

“Has to do with him not being human.”

“But he looks human.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t watched bloody Doctor Who before.”

“Um, it looks kind of old?”

“Old? This episode’s from…” Spike quickly did the math. Damn. “Okay, so it’s from a while ago, but the storytelling’s top notch and the time travel means almost anything can happen.”

“Uh-huh.”

Spike gave up. Either she’d get it or she wouldn’t. He slurped down the rest of his dinner and made a three pointer with the cup into the trash bin. Buffy finished her fries and shake and scooted over so she was leaning against him.

The channel luckily showed the whole story arc and by the end, Buffy was wide eyed. “Is there more?” she asked.

“Show’s been around since the 60s, so there’s lots more where that came from. You sure it’s not too old for you?” he teased.

“And you’ve been around since when?”

He flopped on his back and mimed stabbing himself in the heart. “Twist the knife a bit more, luv.”

She scoffed. “I’m sure. It must be horrible.” She gave his leg a pat. “I’m going to go have a shower, it feels like years since the last one.”

Spike kept an ear cocked in the direction of the bathroom as Buffy turned on the water. He found a cop drama to watch, one of those interchangeable ones that it didn’t matter much if you knew the characters. He was still refusing to believe that it’d been as long as it had since that episode of Doctor Who had first aired. Hell, it felt TV had been invented yesterday. If he tried to explain to Buffy how exciting it was the first time he’d seen a colored set, she’d probably think he was a lunatic. A very old lunatic.

He rubbed a hand over his forehead. Were his girls going to grow up like that? He’d blink and they’d be forty with kids of their own and no time to visit Mum and Da?  What about Buffy? Sod it. He shook his head. She was going to live forever.

“Are you okay?” Buffy asked, eyes wide. She was standing just outside the bathroom door, still in her clothes. She waved her hand over her own face.

Spike realized he’d vamped out. With an effort, he pushed the demon back. Time was an enemy he couldn’t fight with fang and claw. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just my mind running away with me. Did you need something?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Ah, the thing is…the tub doesn’t have any anti-slip stuff and I’m scared to get in.”

Spike immediately stood up. This was much more interesting than the telly. “Need some help, do you?” She nodded and her flush turned an even brighter shade of red. Grinning, he stripped off his shirt and left it on the bed. His jeans ended up in the hallway outside the bathroom and he leaned against the doorjamb as he watched Buffy turn her back on him and nervously play with the hem of her shirt. She jumped a little when his hands landed on her hips. “Just me, kitten,” he said into her ear.

Relaxing a fraction, Buffy let him pull her blouse off, then her pants and underwear. She hesitated when he tugged her around to face him as he knelt on the bathroom floor and screwed her eyes tightly shut as he had her put her hands on his shoulders for balance while he stripped her socks off. He pressed a kiss to her belly and leaned his head against its swell. The heartbeats of his girls, Buffy’s strong, regular one and the much faster rhythm of Dawn and Anne’s, had become the background music of his life. The world was okay when he could hear them.

Standing, he stepped into the tub and braced his feet before offering Buffy his hand. Carefully, she managed to get in, all the while clutching him as if her life depended on it. He guided her under the spray to wet her hair, then turned her around and had her rest her hand on the wall so he could wash her hair. It wasn’t their first shower together, but before there’d just been some quick, perfunctory scrubbing before sex. This time he really wanted to take care of Buffy, show her how not alone she was.

As he dumped the cheap hotel shampoo on her head and worked it into a lather he couldn’t help but remember the sheer number of times he’d done this for Dru, usually in dumps like this one, but certainly none of those rooms had ever been paid for. The decorating had sure changed over time, and for a moment he was almost dizzy with all the ugly carpets and hideous wallpaper that danced through his memory.

Drusilla would feed and then forget that she was coated in blood and he’d have to take her into the bathroom to help her wash it off. She’d hum and mumble to herself as the blood ran in rivers down the drain. Spike frowned, glad Buffy couldn’t see him. He missed sharing the kill, the high and rush afterwards as he’d screw Dru with reckless abandon. For so long it’d been his paradise on earth, an orgy of death, violence, and sex that’d ended forever on the streets of Prague without him even realizing it. Drusilla had been too sick after that for things to be their version of normal, and then she’d been dust.

The woman under his hands shifted and moaned softly. “Feels so good,” she muttered as he rubbed her scalp with the tips of his fingers, and just like that he was back in the present. Buffy was warm and alive in his hands, a brightly burning flame he gladly circled. His demon purred in contentment, redolent as a cat in the sun. He couldn’t dismiss everything that’d come before as simply a means to being here in this moment. He’d adored Drusilla and their life together, every sodding dark minute of it, but…standing in Buffy’s light had woken things inside him that had been sleeping since he’d died. It was scary and wonderful and, christ, he never wanted it to end.

He had Buffy rinse her hair before turning her around one more time and grabbing the soap so he could wash the rest of her.

He slid his arms around her before he started and bowed his head so it rested against the nape of her neck. “I love you,” he said, not knowing if the words were enough to express the sheer expanse of what he was feeling.

“I love you too, Spike.” Buffy’s voice was thick and he couldn’t help but believe she felt the same bone-deep pull towards him that he did towards her. His hands moved over her, washing the curves of her hips and breasts and sliding over the swell over her abdomen. His cock was stiff and hungry, and Spike unabashedly let it knock into her ass as he cleaned her off. He let it rest between the cheeks of her ass as he slid his hands between her legs to scrub her pubic hair and sex.

“Spike,” she admonished as he took a great deal more time than was necessary. He relented and positioned her so the water could sluice over her body. When all the soap suds were at last gone, he started to reach past her for the handle to turn off the shower, but she stopped him. “My turn now,” she said, eyes bright.

Spike blinked, not sure what she meant, until she awkwardly grabbed his sides and had him exchange places under the water with her.

His brow furrowed. “It’s okay, luv, I’m taking care of you.”

“And thank you for that, but I want to play, too.” She bit her lip and had a determined look on her face as she sudsed up her hands. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself, because he’d never been on the receiving end. It would have never occurred to Dru to do such, or for him to expect it. Buffy’s hands worked over him, washing his arm, chest and stomach. She had him turn so she could scrub his back–guh, nails–and her heart did a cute little skip when she reached his ass, which she very thoroughly made sure was clean. He didn’t know if he was borrowing warmth from the water or her, but it was radiating through his entire being. He felt loved and cared for.

Buffy had him turn around and, with shy glances up at his face, she washed his cock and balls. He indulged himself by thrusting into her hands as she cleaned his shaft. The pink stain to her cheeks made him grin. She was cute when she was embarrassed, and even better were the happy noises she was making as she finished her task.

Her shoulders shivered and goose bumps broke out over her skin. Right, time to get her out of her before the water got any colder. Reaching behind him he shut the shower off and scooped her up, making her giggle. He toweled her off with the obnoxiously tiny hotel towel, then himself, and gave up on any clothes for the minute. What he wanted to do with her didn’t require them, anyways.

Right outside the bathroom he pulled her to him and fastened his mouth on hers. His cock ached with need and he settled his hands on her hips, meaning to walk her backwards to the bed. Only she stymied him by breaking the kiss and looking up at him with big, round eyes.

“Um, I have a problem.”

****

Buffy was going to die of mortification. Spike was looking at her in confusion. His arousal was trapped between their bodies, a hard line of need, and she was very conscious of her own nakedness, but between her legs things weren’t behaving as they usually did. It was disconcerting.

“What’s wrong, luv?” His hand cupped her cheek. “You can tell me.”

“Today’s been kind of long, and an emotional roller coaster…and…I don’t think that, uh, down there is going to work, right now, for me.”

Spike appeared completely lost.

“It’s not you…you’re all with the nice looking, and smelling, and it’s not like I don’t want to, but my body doesn’t seem to agree.”

His face fell. “Oh, kitten, I’m sorry. I never even asked. Of course you’re exhausted. I should have thought. And, christ, I’m not some eighteen-year-old that’s going to try to tell you it’ll fall off if we don’t do it. C’mon, let’s get you sleeping–“

“Wait.” She put her hand on his chest. Just because her body wasn’t cooperating didn’t mean he had to pretend he didn’t want anything. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do anything, only that the usual is sort of off the menu.”

“Buffy?” He was so befuddled it was sweet. She took his hand and led him to the bed to settle him on the edge. She grabbed a pillow, dumped it on the floor, and then, less than gracefully, managed to get on her knees. Seven months worth of twins was not making this whole process any easier. Spike finally figured out what she meant to do. “Christ, pet, I didn’t mean for you to…” He made a frustrated growl.

“I want to.”

“But you’re not getting anything in return.”

She frowned. “Who says I’m not? Can’t making you happy satisfy me too?” His brows were drawn together and he looked almost angry. In Buffy’s experience guys always wanted their dicks sucked. Riley certainly had, though he’d get weird about it, one minute begging her to do it and the next telling her she was a slut for doing what he asked. It’d been confusing, to say the least, but she’d been wanting to do this for Spike for a while and was surprised he hadn’t asked. It dawned on her that maybe she was the problem in the equation. Maybe it’d been a big thing, being vampires, between him and his dead girlfriend and he didn’t want her to sully the memory. Or maybe, she glanced down, he didn’t find it real sexy to have the pregnant lady slobbering on him. The tiny bit of confidence she’d had fled and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Sorry, I sort of assumed…we can just go to bed.”

There was another, more irritated sounding growl. “I think we’re both being shit at saying what we mean.” He put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. “Buffy, I’d love for you to use your mouth on me. God, I’m shaking just thinking about it, but I feel like a right selfish git to have you get me off without giving you the same in return.”

“It’s not like this is permanent. Tomorrow or whenever you can totally use your tongue on me…erm, if you want.” Her fingers went to his knees. “And it’d be really nice to maybe not hear I’m...icky, for doing this.” Spike’s brows shot up and something dark moved behind his eyes.

He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “There’s nothing wrong with what we do.” His voice was carefully modulated, but she could still feel the anger behind it. It gave her a thrill. If Riley ever showed up he’d be in for a heck of a surprise. “And you’re free to do whatever you like, as long as it doesn’t involve goats. If there’s goats, I’m out.”

She chuckled. “No goats. I’ll remember that.” Spike smiled and let her push his legs apart so she could reach his cock. His erection had flagged a little, but when she wrapped her hand around his shaft and began stroking, it quickly returned to full salute. She glanced up to find his eyes locked on her while his chest moved in short, sharp pants. Never taking her gaze off his face, she stuck out her tongue and ran it around the swollen head of his cock that was peeking out under his foreskin. Spike gasped and his hands griped the end of the mattress. Pleased, she let her eyelids drift closed and sucked the entirety of the head into her mouth.

Spike said something mangled that might have included her name.

Her tongue played over him, mapping out the contours of his dick. He tasted wonderful, a stronger version of his scent, with a faint hint of the hotel’s soap. She wiggled the tip into the slit at the front and his hips gave a little jerk while he swore under his breath. Growing bolder, she worked her tongue between his foreskin and glans, swiping it lightly back and forth. Spike made another inarticulate noise of pleasure and she hoped it indicated she was doing the right thing. Riley and her first boyfriend had both been circumcised and she still wasn’t a hundred percent sure how to handle Spike not being cut.

Buffy leaned back to catch her breath and Spike’s fingers briefly covered hers as she stroked him, then he retracted his foreskin and took her other hand from where it rested on his thigh and guided it to his sac. She cupped his balls and he groaned, which trailed off into a whimper as she sucked his cock back into her mouth. This time she took as much of his shaft in a she could and bobbed her head while lapping at the underside.

“Oh, fuck, kitten. So good, don’t stop. Love what you’re doing, feels like heaven. What a perfect warm mouth you have.”

She nearly glowed from the praise. The hand she had on his sac continued to gently play with it. That was a new thing to her as well, she’d never thought to do it before. Guys were always so protective of their balls. She massaged them gently in her palm and lightly scraped her fingernails against the back.

“Brilliant, luv. God, you’re going to make me come like a bleeding freight train.”

She glanced up at him and found herself looking at the ridges of his demon face. Judging from the way his eyes were hooded and partly rolled up she doubted he even realized he was wearing it. That’d she’d caused him to be that undone sent a surge of pride through her. He could be anywhere in the world right now, and with nearly anyone, but it was her he loved and wanted. She redoubled her efforts, sucking eagerly on his dick and rolling his balls with her fingers.

Spike’s words of praise seemed to have devolved into garbled nonsense mixed with growls and moans.

She felt his sac draw up tighter against his body and he managed to flutter a hand against her head. In answer she squeezed his shaft firmly and he went back to digging his claws into the ugly bedspread. His hips bucked shallowly. One, twice, and the third time he came with a roar. His cock jerked in her mouth and Buffy gulped frantically to keep up with the rush of his cool spendings. The taste was salty, savory, and all Spike. Her toes curled in delight.

When he was spent, he flopped backwards on the bed with a loan groan and lay still. Buffy let his softening dick slip from between her lips and placed her hands on the tops of his thighs. And waited.

Her vampire didn’t move.

She pursed her lips and waited a little longer, but her right calf was starting to cramp. “Spike?” she asked.

“Uh,” he mumbled.

“Spike?” she tried again while poking his leg.

“Yeah?” he said, sounding woozy.

“I can’t actually stand up.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, kitten!” He sat back up, vamp face now gone, and had her pulled onto the bed and under the covers in the next instant. He draped himself around and over her, purring loudly while his hand cradled her belly. She would have asked him if she’d done okay, but the answer was pretty obvious since she seemed to have rendered him brainless and boneless.   

Her finger stroked his wrist and as sleep crept up on her, she happily imagined all the things he could do to pay her back.

****

Spike woke up warm, happy, and still plastered to Buffy’s back. It took him a while to realize that the annoying noise that’d irritated him in wakefulness was the ringing of the hotel phone. He was sure if he ignored it, it’d stop eventually. The sleepy bliss of being snuggled with his family won out over anything else. Dawn and Anne were awake and kicking, and Dawn had hiccups, which was making Buffy’s entire belly jerk. Was there a way to scare them out of her, or were they good for her tiny, developing lungs?

“Get the phone,” Buffy muttered.

Well, damn.

Sighing, he rolled over and picked the receiver up. “What the bleeding fuck do you want?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Lorne said on the other end. “Glad to see you’re chipper at the start of this fine day.”

Spike growled low in the back of his throat.

“Be nice,” Buffy said, though she was still curled up under the blanket instead of chatting on the phone so it wasn’t like she had a leg to stand on in that argument.

“Everything okay?” Spike asked, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

There was a pause. “We don’t know yet.” Lorne’s flat tone chased the last of the sleep from Spike’s brain and replaced it with cold dread. He sat up on the side of the bed. “Early this morning Wes found a lead, but we’re going to need a very rare manuscript to follow up on it. The good news: there’s a copy of the manuscript here in Seattle. The bad news: it’s not going to be easy to get.”

“What do I need to do?” Spike asked. He’d move bloody heaven and earth to keep his girls safe.

Lorne sighed noisily. “The demon who guards it lives in the underground.” Spike started forming a plan. “She’s ancient, and powerful.” Weapons were included in the plan. “And we believe she’ll have nothing to do with any of us, but most likely will talk to Buffy.” The plan came to a screeching halt.

“What? Are you daft? I’m not taking Buffy into the dark under Seattle to meet with some unknown demoness.”

Buffy was sitting up now, her face unreadable.

“Hang on,” Lorne said. Spike could hear Dalton’s muffled voice on the other end of the line. “It’s breakfast. You eat it. With this fork. And since I bothered to make it you’re going to do so without complaining.”

“Sounds like you’ve been outwitted, mate.” Spike chuckled. Dalton was much more of a mother hen than Spike had given him credit for.

Lorne sighed again. “Checkmated. And yes, you are going to take her, because otherwise there’s a good chance there won’t be a world for Dawn and Anne to be born into. From the fragments we’ve found so far, it looks like Mr. Trick’s up to a lot more than just organized crime.”

End of…

No, his daughters were going to grow up…

Crap, it sounded like he was taking Buffy right into the bowels of the last place he wanted to.  Spike clutched the phone tightly. “Checkmate.”


	25. Kale Smoothie

Heaven sent hell away

                -Soundgarden, “Black Hole Sun”

 

I'll wait for you there

                -Audioslave, “Like a Stone”

****

The girl was off her rocker. Completely out of her bleeding mind. Spike glanced at Buffy out of the corner of his eye as they walked towards where the tour of the Seattle Underground was going to start.

She was holding his hand and happily slurping on a kale smoothie.

The thing was crime against nature.

They’d passed some trendy place and a bloke had walked out with one in hand and the next thing Spike knew he was inside the joint and shelling out for a green monstrosity while every single pair of eyes in the blasted place had been staring at him. It was probably the coat. The giant poster of a bare-arsed chit that read ‘I’d rather go naked than wear fur’ was a big clue that he wasn’t among kindred spirits.

The kid behind the counter took his money all the same and once they were back outside with Buffy cooing happily over her drink he found he didn’t mind so much. No one’s business though if he fantasized about ripping the blighters all to shreds and decorating the place with their parts. He wouldn’t bother draining any of them, vegans tended to taste like boiled cabbage.

“This is really good!” Buffy enthused, but then she wrinkled her nose and frowned. “In a gross way.” She took another big drink.

Spike sighed. Pregnancy was weird.

Thirty-one weeks and counting.  He was crossing his fingers and toes, hoping she’d get to thirty-six. In his mind that was the finish line. Dawn and Anne would be full-term and hearty and it’d be time to figure out all those mysterious things like nappy changes and which way the batteries went in the baby monitor. It was exciting to think about holding and cuddling the girls, but terrifying at the same time. Right now there was just Buffy to worry about, but soon his heart would be neatly split into three pieces and he’d have to figure out how to survive. At least at first the babies would just kind of lie there and need things. Once they started crawling, or even worse, driving, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

His brain flat out refused to ponder ‘dating’.

Buffy and he weren’t the first ones to the meeting spot where the underground tour was going to start. It was evening, and it would most likely be dark before they exited. Spike wasn’t thrilled about that, but it was the only tour that’d still had open spots that week. Lorne believed having them play tourist was the most inconspicuous way to get them underground and he had made a map showing how Buffy and Spike could get from the tour route to where the demon they were looking for resided.

Spike was hoping it was big, scaly, and mean-tempered. He was itching for a good fight and his demon wanted to show off for Buffy. Well, okay, all of him wanted to let Buffy know how well he could fight. She would get all swoony and make bedroom eyes at him. It’d be a right good time all around.

A few of the women who were waiting eagerly descended on Buffy to ask her about her baby and then they all gushed when she let the cat out of the bag about having twins. Before you could say Jack Robinson the ladies were all telling her stories about giving birth or offering advice on every child care topic under the sun. Buffy, instead of looking annoyed, seemed to be basking in the attention. He guessed since she didn’t see anyone on the regular who was a parent, it was a delight to get to talk about the babies with other women. Or maybe she was just being polite.

Spike sighed and wished he’d brought a pack of smokes with him. One of the men, dressed in a polo shirt that looked like it’s been stolen from a bowling alley, made his way over to Spike.

“Hi! I’m Eddie, and that woman there with the black hair is my wife, Mary. Did I hear correctly you’re having twins?”

“Yeah,” Spike grunted, not quite knowing what to do with the casual air of comradery Eddie was exuding. 

“We have fraternal twins, a boy and a girl, they’re eight now. We’re here from New York and they’re staying with my sister while we do the tourist thing.” That explained the accent.

“I lived in New York–“ Spike stopped himself from saying ‘in the 70s’. That would have been difficult to explain. “A while back, when I first came to the states. I was really into the live music scene.”

Eddie nodded but didn’t seem interested in discussing his home town. “So, what’re you guys having?”

“Fraternal as well, but both girls.”

“Ah, better luck next time, eh?”

Spike nearly rolled his eyes and was tempted to bite to wanker to see if he’d leak stupidity. “I’m right happy with what I got, mate.” Spike braced for the guy’s next words to be about American Football.

“It is instant complete family when they arrive.” Eddies eyes misted up and a smile played over his lips. Spike immediately forgave him for being a wanker, because obviously he loved his kids. “Anyway, what I was going to ask you about is if you’ve bought a diaper bag yet?”

“A diaper bag? No, not yet.”

Eddie grinned and launched into a longwinded explanation about the merits of a certain brand, especially made for hauling around enough stuff for twins. Spike, to his horror, found himself asking questions and accepting a piece of paper and a pencil nub from Eddie to make notes about things like strap width and the importance of a separate pocket for pacifiers.

Six months ago, Eddie would have been dinner. Now, Spike felt vaguely ill at the thought of the man not making it home to his son and daughter.

Spike was so engrossed that when Buffy put a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Eddie’s wife, Mary, was standing beside him. “Did you corner the poor guy about the diaper bag? Always looking for converts, my Eddie.” She smiled indulgently.

“Tour’s about to start.” Buffy pointed to where a man in a hat that read ‘tour guide’ had appeared. Spike settled his arm around her and squeezed. He was glad to see the kale smoothie had been tossed in the bin, where it belonged.

“Thanks for the info, I didn’t know there was so much to worry about,” Spike said to Eddie and shook his hand. It felt…nice, to be included in the dad-club. Spike hoped the shirt wasn’t standard issue.

Eddie nodded sagely. “No kidding! But I think you’ve got this.”

Spike hoped so. He had the sneaking suspicion Buffy and he hadn’t bought enough burp clothes, or teething rings, or easy to wipe off bibs…

****

The tour guide was droning on about early Seattle while the group marveled at dirty bricks and wavy-glass windows. It was all stuff Buffy had heard before, she’d had school field trips that’d included this tour, but now she wondered about demons that might have lived in the city when it was little more than a frontier town. Had it been easier for them back then? When there’d been so many newcomers that nobody would notice if a bunch went missing and things like forensic science hadn’t existed?

It did make her feel weird that her boyfriend was almost the same age as the city. She’d have to ask him if he’d visited it before.

The group followed the guide around a corner, but per Lorne’s instructions Buffy and Spike held back and darted down a separate corridor that’d once been the alley between two buildings. Spike pulled Lorne’s hand-drawn map from his pocket along with a flashlight, which he handed to her, and guided them quickly through several different twists and turns until they were standing outside of a plain wooden door set into a brick wall.

Buffy knocked.

The door creaked open and a creature–half her height and with a black and grey furry face, a protruding snout with a pink nose, and round black eyes–looked out.  The demon had on a blue dress with a pink sash, spectacles perched on her nose, and shiny shoes on her feet, though she had long, blunt claws tipping the end of each finger. All together she looked like the female version of Mr. Badger from _The Wind in the Willows_.

Spike let out a bark of laughter and the creature sighed. “You’re almost late,” she snapped.

“S-s-sorry,” Buffy stammered. “Can we come in?”

“You can, but that thing stays outside, I don’t like its kind.” The demon pointed at Spike with a claw but didn’t look at him.

“Vampires?” Buffy asked, worried at not having Spike as back up.

“Males,” the demon spat. “They’re only good for one thing, as you know.” The demon eyed her baby bump. “It can wait here and I will give you the papers you need.”

“You will?”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting a very long time to do so. Now come in.”

Buffy glanced at Spike, but he looked resigned. “I think it’s fine. Just yell if you need anything.”

The creature huffed. “She will have no need of your penis in here.”

Buffy giggled at Spike’s dumbstruck expression as she followed the demon inside. The room was small but cozy. There was a fireplace with a blaze going, a comfy chair in front of it, and a large orange cat on a rug that opened one eye to look at her before going back to sleep. A plain wooden table was in the middle of the room with a single chair and a neatly made bed was tucked into one corner, but what demanded attention were the shelves that lined the rest of the place. Every inch of them was crammed full of manuscripts, books and scrolls.

The demon was perched on top of a stepstool and rummaging through one of the shelves and muttering to herself. “Young women these days…know it’s here somewhere…you have something for eight thousand years and on the day you need it…ah! Here it is!”

Mrs. Badger descended and unceremoniously thrust a scroll into Buffy’s hands. “Um…thank you? I’m supposed to ask for _A Discourse On the Egyptian Use of Triumvirates_?”

“Poppycock. That scroll is the one you need. The author of the _Triumvirates_ was an idiot, and a man. I have a copy for the laugh value.”

“Oh.” Buffy unrolled the first part of the scroll. “Um, is this in hieroglyphics?”

The demon waved a hand. “There’s a Latin translation rolled in there. I had it done in 5–that’s modern calendar, dear– or maybe it was 13? I assume your young man,“ her voice dripped disdain, “can read Latin?”

“I think so.”

“Who ever thought the Roman Empire would fall so quickly. I expected to be having this conversation with you in Latin, not some vulgar barbarian tongue.” The demon sat in her chair and nudged the cat, who yawned lazily.

“Thank you,” Buffy said, looking in bewilderment at the parchment in her hands.

“You are a surprise, you know.” Mrs. Badger was peering at Buffy over the back of the chair. “I’ve seen many saviors of the world, but none of them were pregnant girls in love with a vampire. You’re a first. I’ve wondered what you’d be like since I was handed that scroll. It’s a pleasant surprise to find you a polite, well-mannered young lady, and I’m glad that you have been blessed with daughters. If only you did not insist on partnering with men, but I suppose no one is perfect. Now go away, before Lady Bigglesworth gets hungry.”

Buffy really hoped she was taking about the cat.

Pushing the door open she yelped as Spike, who must have been bracing his feet on the wall trying to yank the door open, went tumbling backwards. The door slammed closed behind her and faded from view, leaving a blank brick wall.

“Buffy!” Spike swept her into his arms.

“Are you okay? I didn’t yell.”

He was peppering her face with kisses. “As soon as you stepped through that sodding doorway I couldn’t feel you or the girls anymore. Couldn’t hear your heartbeats. Oh, luv.”

“I’m sorry! I did get something out of Mrs. Badger, though it wasn’t what Wes wanted.” She held up the scroll. “Shall we rejoin the group?”

He nodded and she handed him the scroll, which he hid in an interior pocket of his coat. They followed the map back to where they started and thankfully heard the tour guide’s voice not that far ahead. Their shoes made almost no noise on the bare dirt of the floor as they entered a vast room that stretched out on both sides into darkness. Somewhere there was the drip of water. There was a forest of square columns that were supports for the buildings over their heads. The tourist group wasn’t visible, but from the sound of it they were only in the next room over.

Spike reached out a hand and grabbed Buffy’s wrist, his grip tight. His other hand pointed ahead. Creeping towards the far doorway were three shadows she hadn’t noticed at first. _Vampires_ , something deep inside of her whispered. She wrapped a protective arm around her belly. A stake appeared in Spike’s hand and, trembling, she pulled hers from the sleeve of her coat.

Buffy swallowed hard and tried to control the way her arm was quivering.

“Stay close,” Spike whispered in her ear. “But still give me enough room to take these blighters out.”

She nodded, trailing behind Spike as he strode towards the vamps. The look of malevolent glee on their faces as they stalked their dinner was unnerving.

“Evening, gents. I do believe the taking of tourists on underground tours is usually frowned upon.”

“But Mr. Trick said we could have these ones,” a vamp with mangy hair whined.

“Did he now? Well in that case…” Spike pursed his lips. “Wait, I don’t care.” He threw his stake so it hit the chest of the mangy vamp and Buffy gasped as the creature disintegrated into dust. The other two vampires rushed at Spike with angry snarls.

Spike made fighting them look easy. His blocks and punches were graceful as he moved almost too fast for her to follow.

Buffy was so mesmerized she almost missed it, but not quite. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She whipped around to find a female vampire nearly on top of her. The vampire’s yellow eyes were slightly protruding above a mouth full of vicious fangs and sour breath. She had curly brown hair, pink painted nails, and a shirt that read: “Daddy’s Little Princess.”

Instinct drove Buffy’s hand as it rose. Bracing the butt of the stake against her shoulder, she turned just enough so that the vampire hit her left side instead of her stomach. Time stopped. The vampire’s fangs grazed her throat…

And then there was dust everywhere, making Buffy cough and her eyes burn.

A hand landed on her shoulder and she was looking into the face of another demon. With a cry, she lurched backwards and fumbled to raise her stake. Hurt crossed the creature’s face and the bumps and fangs receded, leaving her staring into the face of her boyfriend. “Buffy?”’ he asked, fear in his voice.

“Sorry,” she panted as she ineptly tucked her stake away. There was no sign of the two vamps Spike had been fighting, so he must have dusted them. “I-I…just give me a second.” She held a hand out towards him to keep him from getting any closer. Death had brushed so close by her and her babies that she was still reeling from it. Those vampires had been monsters. They’d been out to kill and they’d been so happy about it. The delighted looks on their faces were seared into her memory. “We better catch up with the others,” she said numbly. If she waited until she felt better they’d be down here forever.

Spike nodded and trailed behind her as they rejoined the tour group.

“We were wondering where you’d got to,” Eddie said when he saw them.

Buffy did her best to look embarrassed. “Call of nature.”

“Ah.” Eddie said and he and the other parents all nodded with knowing expressions on their faces.

The rest of the tour passed swiftly, though Buffy couldn’t concentrate on the guide’s words. The whole vampire attack kept playing out again and again in her head. She probably should have died. One tiny misstep and she would have, and her girls along with her. And Spike was one of those monsters. She’d never seen demon's on the hunt before and had never thought of what Spike's being a vampire meant beyond his odd dietary requirement. 

The tour ended back up on the street at the top of a set of stairs beside a toy shop. She and Spike said good-bye to the guide and other tour members and politely declined a dinner invite from Eddie and Mary. Everyone drifted away, leaving her alone with Spike. She sat on the top step of the stairs, needing to rest her feet. Spike sat beside her. He reached out a hand to her, but pulled it back when she flinched.

“What’s wrong, luv?” he asked softly, his eyes fixed on his boots.

“Everything got a lot more real down there.”

He nodded.

“Spike, those vampires…they seemed so happy before you interrupted them.” She took a deep breath. “Were you like that?”

His fingers twitched. “Yeah, course I was. Loved the hunt and the kill.”

She hugged her arms around her belly and focused for a moment on the shelves of dolls and plastic tea sets she could see through the window of the toy store. “You know I didn’t get that, right?” she said at last. “I thought I was asking you to be a vegetarian.” Buffy laughed mirthlessly.

Spike heaved a sigh. “Buffy, you have to know I’d never–“

“So why’d you do it?” she interrupted. “If you loved being a predator, why stop?”

“Buffy, look at me, please.”

She turned her head and found he’d scooted closer to her. His hand ghosted over her face, though he didn’t touch her. “Yeah, sure, I loved being the big bad, but I love you and Dawn and Anne more. You’re everything, my world. What momentary thrill could possibly eclipse that? I’m so full of love for you there’s no room for anything else. I want to be more than a monster. I want to be a man, your man.”

His face was so earnest and his eyes so desperate that his words shattered the wall of fear that’d been forming in her mind and heart.

She launched herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, I was so scared, I’m sorry, I love you.”

Spike gave a relieved cry and held her tightly with his face pressed against her neck. His shoulders were shaking and she realized he was weeping. “Love you, Buffy. My girl, my Buffy.”

“Shh,” she soothed, running her hand over his hair. Against her throat she felt his face shift and he froze. He must not have meant to do it. She leaned back a little and brought her hand to his cheek. He didn’t want to look at her. “It’s okay,” she murmured, because it was, it really was. She loved him and wouldn’t change him for the world. Finally, he tilted his face towards her. She planted kisses on the ridges of his brow, to his eyelids over his demon-yellow eyes, and long, lingering ones to his lips, pressing hard enough to feel his fangs. She cupped his face in his hands. “I love you, all of you, even this part.” She hoped he understood that now she could say it with full conviction. She’d accepted it before, but now she knew deep in her gut what she was saying.

“I don’t deserve you,” Spike lisped around his fangs.

“Well, you’re going to have to put up with me anyway.”

He grinned and she rested her head against his shoulder. “That was really scary, it happened so fast,” she said, tracing the edge of his coat’s lapel with one finger.

“You were magnificent, luv.” He smiled and his face smoothed back into its human guise. “A real momma bear protecting her cubs.”

“I don’t know. Mostly I was just panicked. If I was the Slayer would I have to do that all the time?”

“Well, yeah. Though you’d be better equipped for the fight and you’d probably find it more fun.”

Her eyes went wide. “Fun?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t get any kind of thrill from dusting your very first vamp?”

Buffy pursed her lips. Instead of focusing on the attack itself she let herself remember the moments after the vampire had exploded into a cloud of dust. Her heart had been pounding, she’d felt very alive, and thrilled to be the victor. Blushing, she dropped her head against his shoulder. “Maybe there was a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty, very, very small thrill.”

Spike chuckled. “That’s my momma bear.” His hand petted her belly. “The girls sure are busy.”

Dawn and Anne were awake and kicking and wiggling up a storm. “I think they know we’re next to a toy store,” Buffy said wryly.

Spike lit up. “You girls want prezzies?”

Buffy groaned. “Can’t you wait until they’re born to spoil them?”

“Nope.” He stood, bringing Buffy along with him, then carefully set her on her feet. “And don’t tell me mum wouldn’t appreciate a little retail therapy too.”

“Okay, maybe? And ice cream would be even better.”

“Isn’t that going to interact with that kale smoothie from earlier? Creating some kind of matter, anti-matter reaction that will potentially destroy the universe?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I want strawberry.”

Spike wisely gave-up. “Yes, ma’am.”

Laughing, she took his hand and they started to walk towards the entrance to the store. They’d hardly gone three steps before a dark-skinned man, well-groomed and in an expensive-looking suit, rounded the corner of the building and stepped into their path. Spike went rigid.

The man smirked. “Aren’t you two lovebirds so adorable it makes me sick?”

Spike’s hand tightened around hers. When he spoke, his voice was ice cold. “To what do we owe this pleasure, Mr. Trick?”


	26. Popcorn

Ain't found a way to kill me yet

                -Alice in Chains, “Rooster”

****

Buffy’s skin crawled. Mr. Trick had been the invisible boogey-man for months, a larger than life figure that’d haunted her nightmares. Now he was standing in front of her and he had no business being so well dressed with such a charming smile. He really didn’t look very scary at all, but she knew better. Mr. Trick was a wolf in designer, tailored clothing.

Spike growled from where he stood beside her as his demon face emerged. He roughly shoved Buffy behind him. Mr. Trick chuckled and his eyes turned as cold and dead as a shark’s. Spike took a step forward and Mr. Trick lazily raised a hand. There was a chorus of loud clicks from all around them.

She whipped her head from side to side. More demons had appeared. Some were vampires and others she couldn’t identify, but all of them were carrying loaded crossbows. Spike scoffed and took another step towards Mr. Trick, nearly in arm’s reach of the other vampire.

“Not so fast,” Mr. Trick said, wagging his finger. “Those bolts aren’t pointed at you.”

Buffy’s stomach dropped and she crossed her arms over her belly. Spike snarled.

A bow string snapped and a bolt thunked into the center of Spike’s chest. It turned his snarl into a grunt of pain. Buffy couldn’t stop a distressed sound from leaving her, even though she knew the bolt wouldn’t kill him.

“Well, except for that one.” Mr. Trick shrugged. “I needed to test a theory.” His smile turned predatory. “I do believe, William the Bloody, that you have something that I want.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed and, with a snort, he grabbed his crotch. “A big dick?”

Blood was running down the bolt and dripping from the end of it. Buffy had to look away.

Mr. Trick laughed. “Shit, that’s what I like about you, Spike. You have a sense of humor that doesn’t bow to whims like self-preservation.” Mr. Trick’s eyes slid to Buffy. “Though I can see you haven’t changed much, just switched out the woman leading you around by that dick of yours for a newer model.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “You have such a way with words.” He wrapped a hand around the bolt and his gaze found hers. “Luv, can you help a bloke out?”

Her hands shook as she raised them to cover Spike’s on the blood slicked shaft of the bolt. As they slowly started pulling the bolt out, Spike hissed and closed his eyes. She couldn’t even imagine the pain. The head of the bolt was barbed and tore as it came free, sending a river of blood down the front of Spike’s shirt. Buffy thought she might get sick, but then the hole closed, leaving his chest unmarked.

Spike pushed the bolt towards her and she could feel one of his rings sliding off his finger. Fear curdled in her chest as she figured out what he was doing. It was the Gem, the one that healed him and let him walk in the sun. She wanted to tell him no. What if Mr. Trick had another ‘test’? But a part of her understood. The ring could make a vampire almost unstoppable. In broad daylight Mr. Trick could walk into the middle of the Enchanted Village amusement park and make a meal out of the kids and parents and who would be able to stop him? Buffy shuddered, aware for the first time how very glad she was that it was her vampire that’d found the ring.

She let Spike push both the bolt and ring into her hands and she didn’t even have to fake being nauseated by the sight of the blood coated wood she was holding. She swallowed back the bile threatening to make its way up her throat.

“Not much of a potential if a little blood makes you sick,” Mr. Trick tutted.

She wiped the blood from one hand on her jeans, sliding the ring into her pocket as she did. Thank goodness all anyone ever seemed to look at anymore was her baby bump. She threw the bolt away to clatter on the pavement before wiping off the other hand and pulling her shirt down to cover her pockets. Dawn and Anne were moving restlessly, the motion visible.

Mr. Trick was staring at her belly. “That is disgusting.”

“So’s drinking blood,” she retorted. Mr. Trick had sidled towards her and was reaching a hand out towards her stomach. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said with as much venom as she could muster, standing her ground and glaring at him.

Mr. Trick’s grin was oily. “Figured you liked a vampire’s hands on you.”

Spike growled.

“Don’t worry, handsome, it’s really you I want to strip anyway.”

Spike raised an eyebrow.

“Jewelry,” Mr. Trick said, holding out his hand. “All of it. Now.” Spike hesitated and a crossbow bolt skidded off the pavement next to Buffy’s foot, making her cry out in fear. She quickly bit it off, but Spike’s face was distraught.

“Don’t hurt her,” he whispered and quickly started pulling off the rings he was wearing. He dropped them into Mr. Trick’s waiting palm.

Buffy shakily rubbed her hands over her arms. “It’s okay,” she said to Spike. “You know it’s okay. He won’t know how to use the Gem.” She instantly had Mr. Trick’s attention.

“He’s not dumb, kitten.” Spike was unfastening the chain from around his throat. “I figured it out quick enough.”

Buffy looked down at her toes and sighed in resignation.

One of Mr. Trick’s shiny shoes was tapping. “Okay, neither of you leave town. I might need to have a word with you again.”

Spike chuckled. “You haven’t been too thorough. Other places I could have jewelry.”

Buffy winced as her mind filled in that blank.

“Y’know, you’re completely right,” Mr. Trick said, tilting his head slightly to the side. He pulled something from his pocket of his pants. He frowned, then jerked his hand towards Spike. There was a hiss as a clear liquid hit Spike’s chest right over the hole in his shirt left by the crossbow bolt. Holy water, Buffy realized. Spike’s jaw was clenched as he ripped away the front part of his shirt to get the water off his skin. There was a raw, red patch on his chest. “That’s what I thought.” Mr. Trick gestured with his head and his cronies slunk back into the shadows. “I’ll be watching you,” he said, his eyes on Buffy, then he was gone as well.

“Spike?” she asked, voice trembling.

“I’ll be okay.” He wrapped his duster around himself to hide his injuries. “Let’s go home.” She started to put her fingers in her pocket, wanting to give him back the ring to heal the burns. His hand caught her wrist and he slid his fingers between hers. “Home.”

****

Buffy couldn’t see the TV.

She was slumped down on Clem’s couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table and Dawn and Anne were blocking her view. Being eight months pregnant–thirty-two weeks, she could hear Fred’s cheerful voice say–was the pits. She was hungry and tired all the time. Breathing wasn’t easy, heartburn was a real issue, and she had to pee a lot more often than she wanted to.  She’d be weirdly horny one day and completely uninterested the next.

Grumpy had become her default setting.

She didn’t know how Spike was putting up with her, but whether she was clinging to him or nagging at him about something, he was nice to her. Sometimes she’d get mad about how nice he was being and he’d still be understanding, talking to her like she was a spooked horse, and sooner or later she’d be sitting on his lap while he kissed her and his hands ran soothingly over her aching back and hips.

Of course, right now the jerk was upstairs trying to fine-tune the translation of the scroll she’d received from Mrs. Badger.  It’d been more than a week and Dalton, Wes, and Spike were still working almost non-stop on it. Buffy had gotten so sick of hearing about infinitives and conjugations that she’d gone downstairs to get away from it. That’d been several hours ago and now she was missing him. She smacked her heel on the coffee table in frustration.

“Everything okay?” Xander asked. He was sitting beside her with his now external pin and rod free leg up on the coffee table, slumped like she was but able to watch Sports Center since he didn’t have a beach ball strapped around his middle.

“No, I’m miserable.”

Xander looked alarmed. “What’s wrong? Do you need to talk? You know I’m here for you.” He gave her arm an awkward little pat.

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to make it sound dire. I’m eight months pregnant. It sucks.”

He eyed her belly. “Is it super weird? Because it looks like it’d be super weird.”

“Kind of?” Buffy scooted up a little so she could see the TV. “Do you mind if I change this?” Xander shook his head and she began flipping channels. “Mostly it’s a lot different than I thought.”

“How so?”

Buffy absently rubbed her stomach. “When I decided to keep my baby I didn’t know it was twins. I hadn’t really ever been around anyone pregnant, let alone someone having two of them. All I knew were TV shows and ads in magazines. Those girls just had cute, tiny baby bumps. And everyone on TV is pregnant for about twenty-five seconds. I look and feel like a beached whale and I think I’ve been pregnant forever. I’m moody and uncomfortable and I really have no idea why Spike puts up with me.”

“Uh, maybe because he loves you?”

She smiled lopsidedly and sighed. “I guess so.” She found a channel playing _Back to the Future_ and left it there.

“He adores you.”

“I know, I just can’t help but worry sometimes. He’s just always seemed so much…cooler than me. He’s been all these places and done so many things.”

Xander snorted. “So many places to see, people to eat.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry.” Xander sat up, wincing as he bent his leg. It was mostly healed, but he’d always have screws inside it holding it together. “Actually, I really am. Spike’s an okay guy and he’s trying so hard to be the guy you need. He’d do anything for you, even that one thing Meatloaf wouldn’t.”

Buffy wrinkled up her nose. “Huh?”

“I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that?”

She rolled her eyes.

Xander looked down and picked at lint on his jeans. “Buffy, what if Riley shows back up?”

“I guess I can’t stake him.”

Xander gave a bark of surprised laughter. “No…but he’s Dawn and Anne’s real father.”

“Spike is their real father,” she bit out. “Riley was a sperm donor.”

“What if Riley wants visitation rights?”

“Over my dead body.” She sat all the way up and put her hands on her belly. “Xander, you have no idea what he’s like. He’d smile and be nice one minute, then when we were alone he’d start telling me about how women were the root of all evil and that I was nothing but trash. When he’d sleep with me he’d tell me I was a slut and shame me for whatever I enjoyed. For a while I believed him. I thought there was something wrong with me for liking sex, that just being a woman was wrong. So no, he doesn’t get a chance to ever say stuff like that to my daughters. I plan to have him sign over parental rights if I ever see him again.” Her jaw clenched. “I should feed him to Mrs. Badger’s cat.”

Xander looked horrified. “Wait, he…what? Can I punch him?”

“You’re going to have to get in line behind Spike, who’s the one that’s mostly had to deal with every last bit of weirdness I didn’t realize I even thought was true. I hate Riley so much for that, for making me believe him.”

Xander shifted on the couch and rubbed his leg. “I’m going to ask a personal question so we can feel awkward about something else, okay?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Um, you and Spike are still doing it, right?”

Buffy groaned. “Yes, Xander, we’re still ‘doing it’.”

“But, how?” He made a gesture with his hands over his own stomach obviously meant to indicate her very pregnant state.

“You’re actually asking me this?”

“Yes?” he squeaked. “I was going to ask Anya but was afraid of getting a three hour lecture, which would be a little about sex during pregnancy and a lot about how I’m an insensitive jerk.”

That made Buffy smile. “She really likes you.”

“Anya’s pretty awesome.” Xander looked shy. “She makes me feel like a real person and not just a broken leg.”

“I know how that goes. Sometimes I feel like all anyone sees is that I’m pregnant. Buffy the incubator.”

“An incubator that’s supposed to be giving me way too much information.” Xander crossed his arms.

“Alright, nosy.”

Xander leaned forward.

“The babies do get in the way, so mostly he has to be behind me. It’s easiest if I’m on my side and he’s spooned up against me. Geez, I never thought I’d long for regular old face-to-face missionary so much.”

“What about you on top?” Xander’s brow was furrowed, like he was thinking way too hard about the logistics.

Buffy’s face burned as it flushed. “I’ve actually never done it that way.”

Xander looked totally confused. “Spike’s not my best friend or anything, but I’ve hung out with him enough to say he seems like the kind of guy that’d be into that.”

“I’m disturbed you have opinions on what sex positions my boyfriend would like.”

“I haven’t devoted an exceptional amount of brain power to it, just saying that, in general, I don’t think he would mind a woman being in the driver’s seat.”

Buffy had to turn away from Xander. She stared at the TV screen as Marty McFly tried to help his dad get with his mom. “Spike wouldn’t,” she said quietly. “Riley did. I got carried away a couple times and thought…” She winced. Those lectures had been especially harsh.

“Maybe he fell off a cliff,” Xander said. Buffy could only wish. “Do you want a snack?”

“Popcorn?”

“Sure, it’ll be the microwave movie-theater-butter variety.”

“Count me in.”

When Xander, only limping a little, went into the kitchen, Buffy used the opportunity to adjust her bra. The Gem of Amara was shoved under one side of her cleavage. Spike had told her to hide the ring and not let him know where it was. She didn’t want to leave it just lying around, so she’d taken to carrying it on her. There was a convenient pocket created by the flap of her nursing bra. At least her growing boobs were good for something.

Spike had adamantly refused to wear the ring at any time, insisting that Mr. Trick needed to believe he had the Gem and that, thanks to her quick thinking, he just didn’t know how to use it yet. They’d tinfoiled over the window in the apartment to keep the sun out, and she had to go to work during the day without him. Tara and Willow were giving her rides so she didn’t have to walk alone, but she missed that time with Spike, as well as studying and training with him. It all sucked.

Spike was having a tough time with it as well, she’d come home to find him with reference books all over the table, his hair mussed from him having run his hands through it all day, and muttering French poetry under his breath. He’d latch onto her and she’d barely be allowed to pee by herself for the rest of the night.   

Xander came back with two shiny-silver bowls of popcorn and handed one to Buffy along with a bottle of water.

“Check it out,” she said. “I have a built-in holder.” With a grin, she balanced the bowl on top of her baby bump.

Xander laughed. “Enjoy it while it lasts because it’s going to be a while before Dawn and Anne are old enough to do chores.”

“They don’t come out and start cleaning house? I feel cheated.” She took a big bite of popcorn, relishing the buttery, salty goodness.

Xander snorted. “You’ll be lucky if they’re cleaning house in sixteen years. And don’t expect Spike to make them do anything. He’ll be wrapped around their little fingers from the second they’re born. All they’ll have to do is bat their eyelashes at Dad and be able to get away with anything.”

“Dang,” she muttered. He was so right. “I don’t want to be the mean parent.”

“I hope you like ponies and pink convertibles.”

Buffy closed her eyes and groaned.

****

The Sun Thief was quiet. There were a few patrons nursing drinks, but it was well past the dinner rush. Willow leaned against the bar with a book open in front of her. She was so immersed in ancient Egyptian myth and history that she was starting to dream in hieroglyphics.

“You doing okay?” Tara said, coming up beside her and putting a hand on her back.

Willow sighed and stretched before pecking her girlfriend on the cheek. “Yeah, just doing more research, but I don’t think the stories in this one are going to be anything new. Ra good, Set bad, blah blah blah.”

“I kind of like Sehkmet.” Tara leaned on the bar and flipped through the pages of the book Willow had been studying.

“That’s just because you’re a bartender and she got all mellow after being drunk and stopped lusting after human blood…” Willow trailed off. “Hey, you don’t think that’s some kind of vampire thing do you?”

Tara shrugged. “No idea, but speaking of.”

A very nervous Dalton had walked into the bar. Seeing Willow and Tara, he gingerly made his way over to them. “Hi, Lorne told me to meet him here?”

Willow pointed to the far corner. “He’s over there trying to catch up on business stuff.”

“Did he have dinner tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” Tara said. “He got caught up in a supplier issue.”

Dalton drummed his fingers on the bar. “Okay, um, in that case can I get an open-faced French dip sandwich and fries with a side of ranch, a seabreeze, and a dry martini?”

“You got it!” Tara went to give the order to Clem and Willow began mixing the drinks.

“How’s the research going?” Dalton tapped the book on the counter.

“Myths, myths, and more myths,” Willow said.

“Pay extra attention to the Osiris and Isis ones.”

Willow placed the martini on the bar. “Those names still coming up frequently in the scroll?”

“Yeah. Along with some pretty scary stuff about endless darkness and the sun being covered.”

His words made Willow shiver.

Dalton leaned against the bar and looked at Lorne’s hunched figure. “I think he’s been seeing a lot of this for months, or years, but just now can put a name on it. I don’t know how it hasn’t driven him crazy.”

“He used to be more fun,” Tara said, returning from the kitchen. “The sandwich should be ready in about ten minutes. I’ll bring it over.”

“I hope I can get to know that side of him and that we can defeat this, whatever it is.” Dalton took the finished seabreeze from Willow and picked up his drink as well.

The bar felt much darker and emptier than it had a moment ago. Willow tried to smile. “I think that’s what we all hope.”


	27. Cake

Memories back when she was bold and strong

                -Pearl Jam, “Better Man”

****

Buffy tugged down her perpetually riding-up top. Even elastic had given up the fight against her growing abdomen. She followed Wes with her eyes as he circled around her, settling herself into a defensive stance now that her wardrobe emergency had been taken care of. Her Watcher halfheartedly threw a couple of punches at her which she easily blocked.

“Try harder,” she growled.

Wes shook his head. “I’m calling a break. We’ve been at this for an hour and you should drink something.”

Buffy sat down with a sigh at one of the backroom’s tables and sipped a glass of water that the ice had long melted in.

Wes collapsed into the other chair and put his glasses back on. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Spike.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows as she took another sip.

“I don’t think I’ll ever particularly like him, but he’s much better at the physical training then I am. He can finesse it in a way I can’t. I’m always worried I will unintentionally injure you.”

She wanted to retort something about not being made of glass, but Dawn chose that moment to kick her rib. Drat. Wes had a point. “Thank you,” she said instead.

“Yes, um, you’re welcome. How is Spike doing?”

Buffy sighed. “Not well. He’s not handling being stuck at home while I’m here all that gracefully. I don’t blame him, but moody pregnant lady dealing with moody overprotective vampire means we’re both grumpy, a lot. And if he’s not being grouchy then he’s being clingy. Literally. And I’m too hot and uncomfortable to be draped with someone else constantly but if I tell him that then he freaks like I’m never going to want to touch him again. So…yeah, we’re kind of a mess at the moment.”

Wes was frozen and round eyed.

“Um, sorry. Too much information. Can we go back? How about: Spike’s fine under the circumstances?”

Her Watcher blinked, then shook his head and leaned back. “No, Buffy, you can talk to me about anything, including your boyfriend being less than pleased about being suddenly limited by what he is.”

She tapped her fingers against her glass. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that.”

“I can’t presume to know exactly what is going in his head, but I do know he takes a great deal of pride in being your protector. Not being able to do that must be weighing terribly on him.” She nodded and Wes continued, “As well as the fact that he is being constantly reminded now that he isn’t human, and while that once was something he gloried in, that is no longer the case since he met you.”

“But he knows I’m fine with the fact he has a demon part of himself.” She shifted on the chair. Her girls were busy pushing, stretching, and kicking. It was making her uncomfortable and she rubbed her hands over her belly to try and calm them.

“You can’t be entirely fine with it,” Wes said, crossing his arms. “You sent him away because of it.”

Her gaze dropped. “I can’t…with Dawn and Anne their dad can’t be killing people left and right.”

“And you’re completely right, and Spike would agree with you. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been fighting that side of himself so that he feels like he’s worthy to be with you. And the Gem has let him at least pretend that he’s just a regular guy. Now every way he turns he’s reminded that he’s a monster. So I can imagine that while you’re just trying to deal with the physical symptoms of pregnancy, any pushing away you might do…it must terrify him that you’re about to show him the door again.”

Buffy groaned and put her hands over her face. “Why does this have to be so complicated?”

“Well–“ Wes leaned forward and patted her shoulder.

The door to the training room opened and Lorne breezed in. “Babycakes!” he cried. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

Buffy’s heart sank. “Oh no,” she breathed, keeping her hands over her face.

“What?” Wes asked, voice alarmed. “Did I miss something?

Lorne clapped his hands together and Buffy peeked between her fingers. He was grinning. “I just found out that someone is a birthday girl!”

Buffy slumped in her chair and let her hands fall to her sides. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Nonsense!” Lorne said. “You deserve to be celebrated.”

Wes smiled. “Certainly! Happy Birthday, Buffy.”

“Um, thanks guys.” She could feel her face turning red. She hadn’t celebrated her last couple of birthdays. Riley had never even thought to ask when it was. It was easier to not have people worry about it. Most of her friends didn’t have the money to buy her anything and she hadn’t wanted them to feel bad because of that.

“Next year we’ll have too many drinks while wearing ridiculous party hats and dousing you in confetti.” Lorne looked gleeful at the thought. “But for now, why don’t you just head home early? That boy of yours can take care of you.” Lorne’s eyes narrowed. “And you will tell him. If he finds out some other way he’d feel terrible at having missed it. Maybe you two should go out tonight. The weather is supposed to be good, and if you head down to somewhere like the waterfront there’ll be so many people even Trick wouldn’t dare try something.”

Anything sounded better than another night of two tense people sitting around watching TV.

“Yeah, okay…and ice cream! We could totally get ice cream.”

Lorne’s smile widened. “Now you’re talking!”

****

Wes had driven Buffy home and Buffy had walked into her apartment to find Spike sitting at the kitchen table, asleep, with his head resting on an open book. His brows had been drawn together and he’d looked less than peaceful.  His hair was mussed and one of his socks had a hole in the toe. When she’d gotten closer she’d realized his shirt was on backwards.

Spike had startled awake with a yip, springing to his feet, only relaxing when he’d figured out it was just her.

“Sorry,” he’d mumbled. “I’ve not been sleeping well. Is it time for you to be home already?”

She hadn’t said anything, just held her arms out to him. He’d rushed into them and held her as tight as he could with her baby bump in the way. When he’d started to pull back she’d cupped his face with her hands and kissed him.

Which was how she now found herself on all fours on the futon with Spike behind her, grunting with each thrust of his cock into her channel. He’d already spent a long time with his head between her thighs making her see stars, planets, and possibly other galaxies. She was having one of her good days, where the extra blood from being pregnant was just enough to make her pussy sensitive without it being overwhelming. All of his touches down there felt super-extra good and she swore she could feel every vein of his shaft as he worked it deep inside her.

Her thighs trembled and she came again with a groan. Spike’s hand landed hard against her ass, the slap surprising her and making her inner muscles pulse harder so that fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. With a whimper, she pushed herself back against him and he moaned. His thrusts sped up. When he came he pressed himself as far as possible into her and she could feel each delicious jerk of his cock as he spent his load. He collapsed on his side next to her and she lay down facing him.

He held her gaze and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before letting his hand wander further down to outline her slightly sweaty curves. “I’m not complaining, luv, but why did you get to come home early?

She bit her lip. “Um, it’s…kind of my birthday, today.” Spike’s hand froze on her hip. “I don’t like to make a big deal out of it. For lots of reasons, but one is that usually my birthday is kind of a disaster.” She frowned. “Though this one is going okay so far.”

Spike made an incoherent sound and then she was in the bed by herself. She’d expected kisses and a leering ‘happy birthday’, not an empty space. There was banging from the kitchen. Wrapping herself in the quilt, she went to go investigate her boyfriend’s sudden disappearance.

Any anger she’d been working on dissipated as Spike, still naked, turned towards her with a box of chocolate cake mix clutched to his chest. “You need a cake!” he said, sounding panicked. “You have to have a cake on your birthday. And I can’t go get one.”

Her heart melted and she hugged him, enveloping him in the quilt, and running her hands up and down his back, soothing him until he relaxed and dropped his head to her shoulder. “I don’t care about a cake, I just wanted to spend the day with the guy I love.”

“Love you too, Buffy,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to her neck.

“I know. Lorne suggested we take a break from the apartment. He said it should be safe to wander around the waterfront tonight. It’s supposed to be warm and there’ll be plenty of people. I’m hoping for strawberry ice cream, and it has to be in a waffle cone. The other kind sounds icky and don’t get me started about having it in a dish.”

Spike chuckled and backed up a step, the cake mix still cradled in his arms. He seemed much more like his regular self. “Alright, alright. Ice cream and tourist traps it is. But I insist you have a cake. Why don’t you get showered and primped? By then the cake should be ready to take out of the oven and it can cool while we’re gone.”

She nodded and turned for the bathroom.

“And, kitten, you’re so going to get sung to.”

****

Spike felt downright chuffed to be out with his girl. He had his arm slung around her waist as they navigated their way along the waterfront. She was done up smart in a wine colored long sleeve shirt with a v-neck that showed off her cleavage, black pants and boots, and her long blonde hair was loose down her back. She was a vision and positively glowing. He didn’t think he was imagining the looks of jealousy more than one bloke had thrown his way.

He’d gussied himself up too, and for the first time in days had his hair slicked back, his newest togs on, and his duster spotless. Next to her he knew he still wasn’t much, but she’d made appreciative noises and ran her hands over his silky red button down in an entirely satisfying way.

Dinner had been a round of clams and chips at Ivar’s, the seagulls just as insistent at night as they were during the day. She’d inhaled hers and half of his before declaring herself full. Since then they just been meandering, enjoying the sights and sounds. The high-rises of the city were ablaze in lights, nearly outshining the stars. He missed being able to see the mountains in the distance, but focused on the sound of the sea as it lapped at the legs of the piers. Out on the black water a ferry was churning its way towards shore.

“Time for dessert?” he purred into Buffy ear, thrilled at the little shudder that went through her. When she’d first told him it was her birthday he’d been worried because he hadn’t had a gift or something yummy for her, but she’d insisted that the only thing she really wanted was time with him, and now he was starting to believe her. Well, time with him and strawberry ice cream.  He found her a place on a bench so she could rest her feet while he went to stand in line at the ice cream parlor. It made him a smidge nervous because there were enough people around that he couldn’t easily scent her, even though there was less than a hundred feet between them.

It only got worse as the ferry docked and disgorged its passengers. Spike was antsy by the time it was his turn to order. He got her the requested strawberry in a waffle cone and a butterscotch one for himself. He quickly paid, and, both cones in one hand, hurried back to where he’d left her. Only she wasn’t there.

Time stopped as he stared at the empty spot on the bench, but the world righted itself as he found her standing only a few steps away. Thank bloody goodness. He put his arm around her shoulders. “Sorry about the wait, luv, seems like half of Seattle is out…” he trailed off. Buffy was rigid under his palm and she hadn’t turned to look at him. Frowning, he followed her gaze to where it was resting on another man. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the desire to kill rolled through his body. Whoever this git was, he needed to leave, Buffy was taken. The ass was staring dumbly at Buffy. Slowly, Spike figured out he knew the berk. It took only a few seconds more for his mind to place how he knew the man.

Riley.

The demon screamed for blood and a deep growl rumbled through Spike’s chest. The need to kill was spiraling out of control.

****

One second Buffy was standing to stretch her legs, which hadn’t liked the hard bench even if her feet had been thankful, and the next she’d literally bumped into the last person on earth she ever wanted to see again.

“Riley,” she’d said lamely. He hadn’t said anything at all, just stared at her baby bump. Spike had returned and the instant he’d recognized who she was staring at, she’d felt it. Spike had jolted and growled. Finally tearing her gaze away from Riley, she forced herself to relax. Spike looked like he was about to go postal, and unless she wanted a massacre on her hands, she was going to have to defuse this. She plucked the strawberry ice cream out of his hand. “Thank you!” she said brightly, kissing Spike’s cheek.

He shook himself and seemed marginally less likely to go on a murder spree. “You’re welcome, luv.”

“What kind did you get?”

“Butterscotch.” He took a bite of his. A big one, his eyes still focused on Riley. It was the most menacing way to eat ice cream she’d ever seen.

She sighed. Here went nothing. “Uh, hi Riley, didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been a while. Riley, this is my boyfriend, Spike, and Spike, this is, um, Riley.”

Riley finally looked at something besides her belly. His eyebrows shot up as he took in Spike. “Uh, hi,” Riley said. Spike barely nodded, but his hand went from her waist to caressing her just under her breast. She wanted to roll her eyes. He’d probably bend her over and put his dick in her if he thought she’d let him. Ugh, men.

“You’re really, actually, I didn’t think…” Riley couldn’t seem to get a meaningful sentence out, but once she got the gist of what he was saying, she got pissed. Months of pent up anger exploded.

“Oh. My. God. You thought I was lying? About being pregnant? Why the hell would I do that?” She was seriously reconsidering letting Spike take a piece out of him.

Riley shrugged. “I don’t know.” His eyes went to Spike. “She didn’t try to tell you it was yours, did she?”

Spike snorted. “No, mate. She doesn’t lie.” He took another bite of his ice cream and Buffy was almost sure she could see fangs.

Confusion clouded Riley’s face. “Then why are you with her?”

Spike nearly choked on his ice cream. “What?”

“I mean…she’s pregnant.”

Spike tilted his head to the side. “Had noticed.” Buffy felt sick. Her much longed-for ice cream was no longer appealing. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to be unwanted, and she hated for Riley for making her remember so easily. Her gaze went to the cracks in the pavement. “Though I’m not quite sure what you’re implying.” Spike’s voice was cold. “I’ve been enjoying this lovey evening, especially with my lovely girl beside me. Though I thought she looked even better earlier when the only thing she had on…was me.”

Buffy’s face flamed red. “Spike,” she admonished.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, though he sounded anything but.

Riley’s mouth was gaping.

“There you are!” exclaimed a woman’s voice. A tall brunette in jeans and a sweater threaded her arm through Riley’s. When Riley didn’t immediately make introductions, she took it upon herself. “Hi, I’m Samantha, but you can call me Sam. I’m Riley’s wife.”

Wife? That hadn’t taken long, though Buffy was a lot less hurt or surprised than she maybe should have been. She glanced at Spike, who was wearing a wolfish grin. “Isn’t that bloody interesting,” he said in her ear. “Hello Sam, I’m Spike and this is my girlfriend, Buffy.  Buffy used to work near the base and knew Riley, but she hasn’t seen him in almost eight months, so we were all just catching up.”

Riley’s face took on an expression of panic.

“I didn’t know you knew anyone English,” Sam said, sounding delighted. Buffy wanted to roll her eyes. That was her boyfriend with the sexy voice, thank you very much. “We’re only here for a few days, but maybe we can all go out to dinner together?” Obviously, Sam was not picking up on the underlying tension. Maybe she was just dense?

“Sure, honey,” Riley said. “But, um, I’m really feeling the jet lag.” He fished a wadded-up bill out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Can you run to Starbuck’s and get my usual?”

Sam took the money with a smile. “Of course, dear.” She gave him a peck and waved at Spike and Buffy. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Spike said as Sam obediently trotted off. Buffy sighed. Sam must be a very good little wife.

“Thank you for not saying anything,” Riley mumbled as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Wasn’t for your benefit,” Spike drawled. “Here’s the deal: unless you want your wife, your parents, your commanding officer, and the whole sodding planet to know you fathered twins out of wedlock and abandoned their mother, you’re going to tell me what base you’re stationed at. Shortly, you’ll be receiving a package of papers. You’ll have them signed, notarized, and sent back as quickly as possible. Got me?”

“Papers?” Riley asked.

While he’d been talking, Spike’s hand had spread over Buffy’s belly in a protective gesture. She covered his fingers with her own. “I want you to sign over parental rights,” she said quietly. “I never want to see you again, and I never want you to have anything to do with your daughters.” She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, meeting her ex’s gaze. “As far as I’m concerned, Spike is their dad. He’s the one who’ll be there when they’re born and walk them down the aisle. You will have nothing to do with them. I’m not giving you a chance to hurt them like you hurt me. And this will make it easier for you. There’ll be no paternity test, no paying child support, no explaining anything to anyone.”

“Wait.” Something seemed to have finally clicked in Riley’s thick head. “Twins?”

“Yeah, Mazel Tov,” Spike ground out through a clenched jaw.

“And you want to raise them?” Riley asked Spike, clearly lost.

Spike’s fists clenched. “I will always take care of my girls. All three of them. Whether that means matching pink dresses on their first day of school or making sure they don’t almost starve to death on the streets of Seattle.” The last was a yell that had some people nearby turning their heads.

Riley took a step back and put his hands up. “Do you have something to write on?”

Spike fished the ice cream receipt out of his pocket, and a pen.

“Don’t think about lying,” Buffy said. “You’re still in the service. A few phone calls and I can find out the truth. I just have to give your commanding officer two good reasons.” She rubbed a hand over her belly for emphasis.

Riley thrust the paper and pen at her. “Here, have a nice life.”

He started to walk off, but squeaked as Spike intercepted him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling the taller man down until he was eye-to-eye with Spike. “I’m not a nice man,” Spike said, and his face slowly shifted to that of the demon. Riley’s face drained of all color. “But I protect what’s mine. Buffy is mine. Do you understand?” Riley nodded frantically. “Good. Now tell her you’re sorry for every time you hurt her.”

“Sorry, Buffy.”

Spike shook Riley. “You can do better.”

“I’m sorry for every time I hurt you,” Riley said, his voice frantic.

Spike held the point of his ice cream cone towards Riley’s eye. “We’re never to see your pathetic, limp-dick, spineless face ever again. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

Spike’s voice dropped. “And if I find out you’ve spoken even a single word Buffy or either of my daughters, I will hunt you to ground and tear your sodding throat out.”

Riley’s eyes darted to Buffy.

She shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”

Riley went from pale to green.

Spike let him go and, human features back in place, stalked back to Buffy. Tangling his hand in her hair, Spike kissed her with abandon. Riley started retreating, but her eyes slid closed before he’d gotten far. She didn’t care what he did. How had she ever? She felt like a weight had been lifted from around her neck. Riley didn’t matter. He was her past, and her future was kissing the hell out of her.

Finally, she had to break away for air. Spike huffed and tried to pull her back against him. Giggling, she put a hand on his chest. “Hold on, we’re in a public place and both holding melting ice cream cones.”

His glazed-over eyes cleared a little. “Oh, right.”

“I think I’m sort of done with my cone. You?”

“Yeah.” He handed it to her and she dumped both in the nearest trash. “I’m sorry that wanker ruined your ice cream.”

“It’s okay. It’s just ice cream. And on the Buffy birthday disaster scale, that doesn’t rate very high. Well below the ice rink catching on fire and the pony biting my friend Ashley and sending her to the ER.”

Spike raised a brow. “I’d ask how an ice rink caught on fire, but I’m not sure I want to know.”

“You really don’t.”

He took her hand, his palm cool against hers. “Fancy a walk home, kitten? There’s cake at the end of it. Though I’ve got chocolate frosting to put on it first.”

Buffy grinned. “I’m going to put chocolate frosting on something.”

Spike’s face lit up. “I have a suggestion.”


	28. Pommes Frites

I'm a search light soul they say

                -Soundgarden, “Fell On Black Days”

 

****

French fries had sounded good when she’d ordered them, but now she was pushing them around the plate aimlessly. Spike was nervous too, which she knew because he’d absolutely insisted she sit on his lap, which meant she could feel his knee jiggling.  The Sun Thief was empty, having closed early so that everyone involved with the whole Mr. Trick and scroll thing could get together for a meeting. The translation of the scroll was done, but no one seemed too eager to explain it to her. Though she guessed she’d know soon enough. Spike was in the dark too; the witches having completed the last part only the night before.

Wes was already sitting at the table, along with a nervous Dalton and bored-looking Xander, but everyone else was still finishing up their closing duties.

Buffy’s already poor appetite completely left her as a sharp pain shot down the left side of her belly and then stayed. She grunted and rubbed the ache.

“You okay?” Spike asked.

“Yeah, Braxton-Hicks contraction.”

Spike made a face.

“Exactly,” she said. The first time her belly had cramped up she’d panicked and called Fred in the middle of the night, thinking she was in labor. Fred had asked her some questions and then told Buffy she was fine, that her body was just practicing for labor and not to worry, the real deal would be super obvious. That didn’t mean the fake contractions were any less painful, or annoying.

Spike rubbed her back. “Poor Mum,” he rumbled.

Willow flopped down in a chair and glanced at Buffy and Spike, but quickly looked away. Buffy frowned. As far as PDAs went, a little cuddling shouldn’t wig her friend out. Tara sat down beside Willow and also studiously avoided looking at Buffy and Spike.

Spike pressed a kiss to Buffy’s temple. “I guess that the plowing the scroll mentioned wasn’t literal,” he said with a chuckle. Buffy had no idea if he was kidding or not.

Clem turned the lights off in the kitchen and Lorne finally ran out of things to fuss over and sank into a chair. Dalton patted his back.

Wes cleared his throat and picked up a stack of papers. “Um, hello. I’m glad everyone could be here–“

“Out with it, Watcher,” Spike said.

Wes fumbled the papers he was holding. “Yes, er, well…”

Tara raised her hand. “Let me, Wes. First: the box in the Egyptian exhibit? It turns out it’s bad news.”

“Really bad,” Willow added. “Like: end of life as we know it bad.”

Spike growled and wrapped his arms around Buffy’s middle. She felt like she’d just fallen off a cliff.

“Uh, there’s a way to fix this right?” Buffy’s voice sounded shrill. “Like this isn’t an we’re all going to die meeting?”

Lorne’s eyes met hers. “It’s okay, babycakes. I promise. Let’s give Wes the floor for a moment.”

Wes had corralled his papers and was fidgeting with them. “Yes, um, first the bad. The box is sort of a Pandora’s Box. It might have even been the source of that legend. It seems to have been created to trap malevolent energy released by the god Set.”

“A god?” Clem asked, wide eyed.

“It seems that way.” Wes rubbed his temples. “Though we’re going on myths and legends that are thousands of years old. It could literally just be a powerful demon that’s been trapped for a long time. Most of the sources agree that the forces in that box, if released, would bring about hell on earth and result in the death or enslavement of all human beings.”

“How long is a long time?” Anya asked. She wasn’t sitting, but hovering behind everyone as if she was waiting on them to order. “Because if it’s less than a millennium I might know something.”

“Best guess is almost ten thousand years,” Wes said. Anya’s brows raised. Buffy guessed that was a long time, even for her. “Which we can be reasonably sure about,” Wes continued, “since there is a bunch of astrological correspondences that will align in three weeks, the next dark moon, that allows for the release of whatever terrible thing is in the box, provided a ritual is performed correctly. The same alignment hasn’t happened in ten millennia.”

Buffy sighed. “Let me guess, Mr. Trick is planning on getting down with this ritual?”

“I believe so,” Lorne said quietly.

Everyone was silent for a moment. Buffy tried to wrap her head around the fact that someone was trying to end the world for reals.

“Simple,” Spike said into the silence. “I go kill the berk.”

“Not so simple.” Wes crossed his arms as Spike snorted. “That might stop the ritual, but the box will still be weakened. In a year or a decade, it fails and the bad stuff inside starts to leak out. So we’d just get a slow ending instead of a fast one.”

Xander leaned forward. “Then what do we do with the big box of evil? Please tell me there’s instructions on stopping this so we can all go back to eating Cheetos and watching reality TV in peace?”

Wes looked at Tara. “There is,” Tara said. “That’s what the scroll Buffy got from the mysterious badger-lady was about.” She frowned. “Though it all seems so…there’s no plan B. Thousands of years ago someone had a vision, wrote this out, and handed it off to be passed to Buffy just in the nick of time. It’s terrifying. So many things had to happen just right, one wrong move and…”

“Kablooey,” Willow finished for her girlfriend.

Spike’s hands were clutching Buffy uncomfortably tight. “But no kablooey,” Buffy said as she wiggled to get him to loosen his grip. “I got the scroll and whatever needs to be done can be done, right?”

Tara nodded and blushed a little. “Here’s the deal: the box was created by two other gods, Isis and Osiris. Isis, or Iset, is a goddess of, among many other things, the downtrodden and children. She used her magic to piece back together her lover Osiris, God of Death and the afterlife, after Set murdered him.” Tara paused and took a deep breath. “Buffy, Spike, this is where you two come in.”

Buffy glanced at Spike, who looked completely confused. “It is?”

“Yeah, don’t you see?” Willow said excitedly. “You were homeless and you’re pregnant, so downtrodden and children. Oh, and there’s some strength things and stuff that are probably related to you being a potential, and Spike is death, like duh, so you’re Isis and Osiris.”

“What?” Spike barked.

“This isn’t going to involve bowing, is it?” Xander’s eyes were wide. “Because that’s still hard to do with my leg.” Anya put a hand on his shoulder.

“No!” Willow made a frustrated sound.

“No bowing,” Tara said with a sigh. She turned to Buffy and Spike. “You two are going to represent Isis and Osiris in a ritual. Lorne is working on getting the supplies together for us. You do the ritual, the box is powered up for another ten thousand years, and no matter what Mr. Trick does, he won’t be able to open it.”

“What exactly do we do in this ritual?” Spike asked.

“Um,” Tara bit her lip and looked at Willow.

Willow twisted her fingers together. “In the myths Isis hovers over Osiris and, er, stuff…”

“Let me.” Anya rolled her eyes. “I haven’t read their notes, but my guess is that this is a sex ritual. And Buffy has to be on top.”

“That,” Wes said weakly.

Buffy turned so she was facing Spike. Alarm bells of all kinds were going off in her head. He had one eyebrow raised sky-high. “How many people are involved in this ritual? Do you all have to be standing there watching me and my bird shag?”

Wes looked horrified. “I should think not! We’ll set up and leave you two to…uh...it.”

“Is there any risk to Dawn and Anne?” Buffy’s insides were cold. She was just a girl. A silly, young, knocked up one. She couldn’t be a goddess in a ritual to keep the entire planet safe.

“No,” Lorne said. “I’ve been seeing bits and pieces of this for a long time. I never imagined fate was going to dump you or tea biscuit there right on my doorstep. One thing I can tell you for sure is that I see past the ritual, and there are always two healthy and happy little girls in pigtails on the other side.”

Buffy’s gaze finally left Spike as she turned to Lorne. “You wouldn’t lie to me?”

He shook his head. “No, twinkie, not tell the whole truth, yes. Lie, never.”

“You didn’t say anything about Spike or me being with the girls.”

Lorne smiled, and she could see nothing artificial about it. He waved a hand. “Yes, yes. You two are there as well. I thought that was a given. The farthest out I’ve seen is one very determined twin in the driver’s side of a car while Spike’s in the passenger seat looking terrified.”

Everyone relaxed and Spike chuckled. “My nibblets are fearless.”

“We have a week,” Willow said. “The night of the full moon is day zero. Me, Tara, and Wes will have the supplies we need together and be prepared to perform the ritual. We’re going to have to break into the Science Center because this has to be done in the vicinity of the box.”

Lorne put a hand on the table. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I know a guy. Xander, you can help.”

“I can?” Xander squeaked, then glanced at Anya and cleared his throat. “I mean, of course I can.”

“Anya, Clem.” Lorne met each of their gazes. “I’d appreciate it if that night you two came to help with keeping anything and anyone from interfering with the ritual. I can’t force you to, and if you rather stay here–“

“I go with Xander!” Anya declared, shoulders squared.

Clem nodded. “I’m terrified, but I’m not going to sit back and let the world end on my watch.”

“Me either,” Dalton said in a very small voice. Lorne took the vampire’s hand in his and squeezed.

Everyone turned to look at Buffy and Spike. She could feel her cheeks burning.

Spike was grinning. “I’m going to save the world…with my–“

“Don’t you dare,” Buffy broke in. “Not if you want it to remain attached to you.”

****

 Willow knelt before the altar in her and Tara’s living room. She lit a candle and a stick of incense, and anointed the statue of Isis, cradling her son Horus, with blessed lotus oil.

There were the soft sounds of Tara’s feet on the carpet and then the strains of the intro track from their favorite chakra alignment CD filled the room. Tara sat beside Willow and took her hand. “It’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Willow said, taking a deep breath. “It just so scary. I’m nobody special, but if I don’t follow all these instruction written down thousands of years ago the world could go ‘poof’.”

Tara squeezed her fingers. “You know what I keep thinking about?” Willow shook her head and looked up into her girlfriend’s worried face. Tara bit her lip. “I keep thinking about how beautifully drawn the hieroglyphics on the scroll were, until it got to the part about the future and then there some wavering lines. I think the guy doing the writing was terrified of the future, where the Gods and Goddesses who were widely worshiped and formed the bedrock of his existence are hardly even known. He must have been so sad and scared.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.” Willow reached out and touched the base of the statue of Isis. “I know it’s not the same, but at least some of us remember.’

Tara smiled. “I know you think Buffy and Spike have been specially chosen for this, but they’re not the only ones. Remember the ‘guiding stars’ the author of the scroll mentioned?” She let go of Willow’s fingers, then they both shook out their arms and settled their hands into a relaxed, meditative pose.

“I thought the author meant Lorne, he’s been the one getting us all together.”

“Lorne is probably one of those stars, but he doesn’t know about the ritual equipment, or spell ingredients, or how to make the necklaces Spike and Buffy need to wear. And he hasn’t been working with Isis for months before we even knew about the scroll.” Tara closed her eyes and circled her head to relax her neck muscles. Willow did the same.

Willow took another deep breath.  “So…we might be stars, too?”

“I think so.”

“I…I really like that. It means that the crummy things, like my parents throwing me out of the house because I like to kiss girls, are less terrible, because they all mean I’m here and able to help.”

Tara reached out and cupped Willow’s face. “I like it too. I like that you’re here. And we can do this.”

“I hope so,” Willow said, her tummy becoming full of butterflies at Tara’s touch. The music on the CD switched from the intro to the deep sounds that represented the root chakra. “At least we know Buffy and Spike won’t have any trouble with their part.”

Tara grinned as she settled back into her meditative pose. “I have to agree.”

Willow closed her eyes and focused on imagining the chakra at the bottom of her spine as a clear, red light. She had to believe things would be okay. Surely the Goddess wouldn’t give her Tara and then take away the world.

****

Everything was still and dark. It’d once been his favorite time of night, when he’d felt most like a creature of shadow. Now… _C’est beau d’avoir_ _élu domicile vivant_.

He was aware every second of every minute that he had three precious lives to protect from the things that went bump in the night. Things like him.  

Buffy was asleep on her side, her back to him. He spooned against her and slid an arm around her middle to stroke her belly. Dawn and Anne were sleeping too. Did unborn babies dream? And what about?

He longed to see their little faces and kiss their cheeks. Hold them, rock them, and sing to them.

He wanted to buy pink backpacks and hug his daughters in the morning before they ran off to the school bus. The need he had to put band-aids on skinned knees and help with math homework had a life of its own.

He wanted to embarrass Dawn and Anne nearly to death by dancing badly in front of their friends, take them to get their nails done, and put the fear of god into any boy who thought it’d be a good idea to try and kiss them. Or any girl. No judgement. Whoever it was probably wouldn’t be worthy.

Spike sighed. Until the day somebody was.

Oh, grandkids! Babies you could play with and give back. That sounded fun.

He nuzzled into Buffy’s hair. Someday he supposed she’d cut it short, and then it’d go grey. She’d be so lovely, though she probably wouldn’t think so and freak over every wrinkle. He’d have to prove to her each and every day that he loved her no matter what.

There’d be a bitter end someday, one he wouldn’t survive himself, but that unknown point didn’t spoil all the wonderful time between now and then. Spike planned to luxuriate in every minute of it. This was his family. It was everything he’d wanted since he’d been out of short pants. A woman to love who loved him back, measure for measure, children to introduce to the world and watch grow, and a home and friends to build a life with.

His heart was full.

“Thank you, Dru,” he murmured. If it wasn’t for her, he would have never lived long enough to meet Buffy. Would have never seen her sunny smile or known how it felt to cradle her in his arms. Sometimes he still missed his dark princess. They’d had fun together. But now…occasionally he sort of forgot all those years. Like he’d been lying in his bed at home, alive with a pulse, then he’d simply rolled over and he was on the futon with Buffy. Without a heartbeat and with no need to pee. He’d hated having to get up in the middle of the night to relieve himself and felt for Buffy as she was usually running for the toilet a couple times a night when the girls used her bladder for a trampoline.

Joking aside, the thought that he had to be part of some ritual he didn’t bloody well understand if he wanted the world as he knew it to be around for Buffy and his daughters was completely terrifying.

He was supposed to be a stand in for a god? He was a demon. No matter what some dusty scroll said, what if this divine energy took a gander at him and went: thanks, but no thanks? There’d have to be a way to make it right if he wasn’t a suitable candidate. Someone else to take his place. He gritted his teeth. It was a ritual. Buffy wouldn’t be lying with some other bloke– who looked suspiciously like her Watcher in his imagination– because she wanted to. It would be to give Dawn and Anne a future. There wouldn’t even be anything for him to forgive and jealousy would have to take a hike, because when it came to the lives of those he loved, nothing was too great a sacrifice.

Feeling a little silly, he scooted back from Buffy and sat up. Double checking that she was still asleep, he hooked his thumb in the front of his pajama’s waistband and pulled it out so he could see his prick. At the moment, it was just quietly lying there, not doing anything. He eyed it. It wasn’t like Buffy, or Dru for that matter, had ever complained about it, but that didn’t mean a god would approve.

This was all very complicated.

“Why are you staring at your penis?” Buffy’s sleepy voice asked.

Spike opened and closed his mouth a few times. Bugger, he’d been busted.

Buffy sat up and leaned over so she was looking down his pants too. “Is it supposed to be doing something?” she whispered.

“Er–“ He let go of his waistband and rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I just got worried, don’t rightly know if it’s going to be what this god we’re calling on will need, y’know?”

Her brows drew together. “Is this some really round about way of asking for compliments about your dick?”

“Maybe?”

She shifted to the edge of the bed. “I have to pee, but rest assured, I think your dick is very nice and I like your erections very much.”

He frowned. “That’s a bit generic.”

“Ugh, really? Okay, Spike, you have a nice big dick and I love how hard it gets and how much it fills me up when you’re inside me. I get all wet just thinking about you thrusting into me and making me come.”

His toes curled and lust swirled in his belly.

“Better?”

“Yes, are you wet now?”

“What?” Her eyes dropped to the front of his pants and she groaned. “Seriously?”

“It was getting talked about,” he said defensively. It totally wasn’t his fault her description of how much she enjoyed his prick had turned him on.

“Let me pee first.”

That hadn’t been a no, so while she was doing her human thing, he wiggled completely out of his pants and stretched out on the futon with one hand tucked behind his head and the other fondling his sac, before he curled his fingers around his shaft and slowly stroked. He considered his erection. It really wasn’t too bad, he supposed.

“Do you still need dick compliments?” Buffy was standing beside the futon with a brow raised.

“If you’ve got any I’m not going to turn them down.” He curled his tongue behind his teeth. She was a magnificent sight with her hands planted on her hips. Though he didn’t need much in the way of compliments when he could see her nipples were standing up at attention beneath the thin cotton of her shirt and the scent of her arousal had hit the air. No need to ask if she was wet now.

Her eyelids drifted to half-mast. “How about: I really want you to use it to screw me. Does that count?”

He pretended to think, though the way his prick jumped in his hand was a dead giveaway. “Yeah, I supposed it works. Do you want to practice the hovering bit for the ritual?”

She blushed. “Now it feels like we should save that for when we actually do the ritual, like it’s special.”

She was turning an alarming shade of crimson. He almost wanted to call her on being uncomfortable with something so simple as a basic sex position, but now wasn’t the time. Now seemed to be a very good time to remind her he loved her, baby bump and all.

He turned on his side and patted the mattress. “Come lie down, kitten.” Looking relieved, she paused only long enough to take off her sleep shorts before lying down with her back to him. He cuddled up behind her, pressing his cock against her lush backside. “Can you feel how badly I want you, Buffy? You make me so hard. You’re so beautiful…christ…a wet dream come true. I crave you, your warmth, your slick pussy. And you’re so alive, it makes me feel the same.”

She mewled as he played with her breasts through her shirt and pinched the pebbled tips. His hand then skimmed down over the roundness of her belly and he found himself grinding his cock against her as he did so. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine her as a goddess, she basically was one already. Life…so much life. His hand went lower and he teased her clit until she was rocking against his fingers and moaning. Only then did he slide his shaft deep into her channel as he licked the nape of her neck.

“I love you,” he whispered as he brought her over the edge into bliss with his fingers and cock.

“I love you, too,” she moaned back, her voice hoarse with pleasure. It was a beautiful sound. He thrust slowly and steadily, and she peaked twice more before he found his own completion, groaning loudly as the orgasm crested and he pumped his come into her.

They lay unmoving afterwards. “Can I stay like this while I fall asleep?” he asked after a while. “I know you’re probably bloody tired of having people inside you, but this feels wonderful.”

She giggled. “I suppose, but I’m going to need the quilt.”

He snagged it with his toes and got it to his hand without sliding out of her. He covered them both and Buffy sighed.

“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you really are a god.”


	29. Hot Chocolate

Don't know what it means

                -Nirvana, “In Bloom”

****

Coffee, coffee everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

Buffy stared at the red door to Seattle’s Best Coffee and frowned. She had five bucks in her pocket and it all smelled so good.

Willow and Tara were going up to Bellingham to get spell ingredients and hadn’t been available to give Buffy a ride to work. Buffy knew she should have asked someone else, but surely no demon would be on the warpath at 8 am, would they? Buffy just wanted to be in the sun for a little while and stretch her legs. She’d been bad and hadn’t even told Spike, knowing he’d be worried, but seriously, it was eight in the morning. Evil was sleeping.

Sighing, Buffy gave in to the heavenly aroma and entered the coffee shop. Immediately, she regretted it. It felt like every woman in the place was staring at her. Even the girl behind the counter’s gaze narrowed as she took in Buffy’s baby bump.

“Can I help you?” the girl asked in a haughty tone.

Buffy sighed. “Can I have a hot chocolate, please? With whip.”

It felt like the entire store breathed a collective sigh of relief. Even the girl smiled, though she so wasn’t getting a tip no matter what, now. Buffy stuffed her change in her coat pocket and went to wait for her drink. Why was it everyone’s business what she drank? Fred had even said a little coffee wouldn’t hurt the babies, but Buffy had decided that no matter how sleepy she was, she wasn’t going to go risk it. But it was nobody’s business but her own if she did. People were sure super judge-y about everything when they didn’t know you.

Too bad she couldn’t yell at them that they should all be super nice to her because she was going to be saving their butts in a couple of days. Though that sounded like par for the course for a Slayer. According to Wes, anyways. Buffy was glad she didn’t have that sitting on her shoulders. From everything she’d read Buffy seriously doubted she’d be called. She was too old for starters and too pregnant. Not to mention she wasn’t going to run around and be humanity’s only defense against evil when she was trying to breastfeed. To top it off, she loved a demon. Buffy was pretty sure that wasn’t in the Slayer job description. Sooner or later everyone-Lorne, Wes, Spike-would all have to agree the Slayer thing so wasn’t happening for her and Buffy could go back to being a regular waitress and mom.

Dawn shifted, making Buffy rather lopsided, and she rubbed at her daughter.

Since Buffy had proven to all and sundry that she was a good little parent-to-be by ordering cocoa, the rest of the shop’s patrons had returned to ignoring her. Except for one guy. He had shaggy dark hair that obscured his face and was as thin as a rail. He looked like the usual Seattle emo teen, except that he was standing in the back of the store, not ordering, and was looking at her. She turned her face further towards him and suddenly he was really interested in the top of a nearby table.

Huh, that was weird.

“Betty?” the guy serving the drinks called, but no one stepped forward to claim it. The customers waiting on their drinks all eyed each other. “Betty?” the guy tried again.

Buffy sighed and moved to the counter. “Is it a hot chocolate with whip?”

“Yup.”

“Then it’s mine.” She accepted the cup and walked out of the store. The emo kid hid his face when she passed him.

The chocolate was delicious, rich and creamy. Both her daughters wiggled, making her laugh. “Important life lesson, girls: chocolate is yummy.”

She crossed a busy intersection and turned a corner. The mid-week traffic was heavy, but the sky overhead was clear blue and while the sidewalks were damp, there were no puddles to avoid.

A bright green dress in a shop window caught her eye and Buffy stopped to look at it. The stupid thing probably cost more than she’d made, well, ever. Not to mention it was probably a size nothing and…Buffy turned to the side and shook her head at her reflection with her bulky coat, knit hat, and twin belly. Yeah, she was going to be able to fit into a dress like that exactly never again.

She would have felt bad about it, but Spike had turned into a love machine lately and it was hard to feel bad about herself when he was telling her from the time she got home until the time she left that he loved her and wanted to be inside her. Buffy wasn’t quite sure how being required to do a sex ritual had turned into ‘we need to make love all the time’, but her body had been cooperating so she wasn’t complaining. She’d even wrangled a back and foot massage out of him the night before.

Other girls could have their overpriced bits of fabric. Buffy wouldn’t trade a single thing to be able to afford and fit into that dress. With a snort, she finished her hot chocolate and looked around for a trash can.

The emo kid was two store fronts behind her, looking in the window. He snuck a peek at her, but quickly looked away when he saw her glance in his direction. She was absolutely sure it was the same guy.

Dread gathered in her chest. Something wasn’t right. She hurried away from the guy, wishing she could move faster, but her lungs were expanding as much as they could with the twins in the way. At the next corner, Buffy turned, walked down a block, and turned again. She looked over her shoulder as she tossed her cup away into the trash, only to find the guy was still there.

He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was following her now. Blood roared in her ears as fear tightened around her heart like a band. This was bad. She resisted reaching up to feel for the Gem of Amara that was hidden in her bra like always. Maybe Mr. Trick had done a spell or something and knew she had it and this guy was going to try and take it. Panic gripped her and her eyes desperately darted around, looking for any kind of help.

Up ahead a man, bundled up and looking like a tourist, was talking to a uniformed police officer. Buffy nearly ran into the officer as he turned after waving goodbye to the tourist. The officer was dark haired and clean-cut. He grabbed her elbow to steady her. “Is everything okay, ma’am?”

“There’s a guy following me!” she panted.

The officer’s face darkened and his lips pulled down in a frown. “Guy with black hair and too much makeup?”

“That’s him.” She risked checking. The emo kid grinned and turned away into the crowd.

“Do you know him?”

“No.” She felt like crying. “I was at a coffee shop, and he was there, and then he…he followed me.”

The officer’s eyes were scanning the area. “It’s okay, he’s gone now.”

“I…I work at a restaurant by Pike Place. Is there any way you can walk me there, Officer…?”

“Officer Knight,” he said with a smile. “And I sure can.”

The familiar streets seemed threatening and the people all seemed to be angry and glaring. Buffy knew it was her imagination, but she couldn’t shake the fear. Officer Knight kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking her a little about herself and offering her suggestions about staying safe. At the nondescript door to The Sun Thief he handed her a card with his name and badge number and the non-emergency police number on it, though he reminded her she could always call 911 if she felt threatened.

“Thank you,” Buffy said. “I’m going to have my friends drive me for the next little while.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you. There’s a lot of weirdos out there. I figure it might have been because–“ His gaze dropped to her belly.

She wrapped an arm around herself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you’re not right.”

“None taken. I hope I’m wrong too. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come in for a second to make sure you’re safe.”

That wasn’t unreasonable, the outside of the bar really wasn’t awe inspiring. “Sure.” She hoped Lorne and Clem weren’t going to be in plain sight. She didn’t want to explain that her classification of ‘weirdos’ was probably totally different than the officer’s. Luckily there was just Anya doing bar prep and Wes sitting at a table.

Wes immediately jumped to his feet. “Buffy! Is everything okay?”

She shook her head.

“She was being followed by some creep,” Officer Knight said, holding out a hand that Wes shook.

“I’m Wesley, Buffy’s Wa…boss. Thank you for looking out for her.”

Anya came over, wearing a smile and offering a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” the officer said. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thank you!” Anya said, taking his arm and steering him towards the door. He waved at Buffy, and she waved back with a little smile.

As soon as the officer was gone, Lorne came out of the back and wrapped her in a hug as the tears started flowing.

****

The apartment felt cramped and Spike wished he could head out for a spot of violence. His demon had been itching for a fight since Buffy had called to tell him about her stalker. He leaned against the wall next to the window, watching Buffy, who was sitting at the kitchen table.

“These lines are kind of silly,” Buffy said, looking at the card with her part of the ritual written on it.

Spike grunted an agreement. He was still almost too angry to think straight.

Buffy sighed. “I’m sorry, again, for the millionth time.”  She hid her face in her hands.

“It’s not you, luv.” Sodding brilliant, now he felt like a heel. He hadn’t been happy about her not telling anyone she was walking to work, but he wasn’t mad at her. He was just furious that she couldn’t be safe walking a few blocks in the morning.

“I think that guy was after the Gem. Maybe Trick knows I have it.”

“Nah.” Spike’s fingers twitched and he wished for a cig. “If he did he would have taken you.”

Buffy kept her head down. “But why have me followed? I mean, the guy was so obvious. Mr. Trick wanted me to know I was being watched.”

“He was just trying to scare you.”

“Well, it worked.”

Spike sighed. It was physically painful to see her like this. He used his pinkie finger to peel back a corner of the tinfoil over the window. The same dark figure that’d been there an hour ago still stood in the mouth of the alley, face tilted towards their window. He smoothed the foil back down. It didn’t seem worth mentioning the figure to Buffy, she was already terrified. Mr. Trick must at least suspect they’d duped him. It was disconcerting.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Spike pushed himself off the wall and knelt beside Buffy. “Don’t go anywhere alone, not right now.” He slid his fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

She whimpered and kept her face squished against her palms. “I’m supposed to be all special and strong, and instead I’m so scared, and not just for me.”

He rubbed her belly with his other hand. “You’re a good mum. And I bet if that wanker today hadn’t been scared off by the copper he still wouldn’t have been able to lay a hand on you. A stake works just as well to stop a human as a vamp.”

She peeked through her fingers. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” It wasn’t a lie. She was bloody amazing. “A right scary mother-bear you are.”

The tiniest of smiles turned the corners of her lips up.

“Now are you going to come sit on the futon and watch _Austin Powers_ with me?” He chuckled as her nose wrinkled.

“That depends on how many times you’re going to tell me: ‘Oh, behave’.”

“How many times can I get away with it before I’m sleeping on the floor?”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take my chances.”

She huffed before standing and stretching with her hands on the small of her back. “Will there be ice cream involved in this movie watching?”

“If you want.”

“I do want.”

“Oh, behave.”

Her groan probably woke the neighbors.

****

The night of the full moon had come far too quickly and Wes could hardly believe they were inside the Science Center. He gripped the brush in his hand tightly.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Spike’s voice shook.

Wes added the finishing touches to the Eye of Horus he was painting in black on the vampire’s shoulder before looking up into Spike’s worried face. Wes shrugged. “The ritual? Well, you saw the box, it’s just a cube with some worn off carvings on it. It doesn’t feel evil. This whole thing could just be someone’s idea of a very elaborate practical joke, but on the off chance it’s not, we should probably go through with the ceremony.”

They were standing in a smaller room off the main exhibit floor. This one was dedicated to crocodiles and there were numerous carvings and statues scattered about and hanging on the walls, along with a mummified one in a case. Spike was bared to the waist, the necklace the witches had made him strung around his neck, and his pale skin sporting numerous symbols that Wes had painted on him. Someone–probably Willow– had got at him and kohled his eyes, which should have been silly but Spike managed to pull it off.

Those kohled eyes were very wide. “I don’t mean the ritual.”

Wes sighed. “Then whatever do you mean?”  He consulted the diagram Tara had given him, making sure all the symbols were correct and in the right place. He ignored the blank eye of a security camera, hoping the awkward situation wasn’t being recorded for posterity. As Lorne had promised, breaking into the museum hadn’t been a problem as the security system seemed to be dormant and the guards all appeared to have the night off.  

Spike grimaced. “Well…it’s a lot of pressure, saving the world and all. What if my plumbing decides to take a vacation?”

Wes rolled his eyes heavenward. Terrific. He was back to being a vampire therapist. A laugh also threatened to escape his lips, because it hadn’t occurred to Wes before that the fate of all humanity rested on Spike’s ability to get it up. He managed not to giggle. “Have you ever had any, er, performance issues before?”

Spike pursed his lips and the fingers of one hand drummed against his thigh. “Not that I can remember. Even completely soused it’s always been able to do its job. My bird just has to snap her fingers and usually I’m ready to go, but this is a little different, innit?”

Wes closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening them. He desperately hoped this was his first and last conversation ever about a vampire’s, uh, twig and…he left the thought unfinished. “Spike,” Wes said while rubbing a temple. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. And even if, at first, your little fellow does not want to rise to the occasion, just have Buffy give you a helping hand, so to speak, and I’m certain you’ll forget all about the surrounding weirdness and it’ll be business as usual.”

“Thanks, mate. It means a lot to hear you say that.” Spike put a hand on Wes’ shoulder. “I know I’m not your favorite…person, by any means, what with me being a vampire and dating your potential, but you’re really a decent sort.”

“Glad to be of service,” Wes murmured, though he was surprised to find himself not unmoved. “And I can’t imagine anyone better suited to being Buffy’s partner, both tonight and in life. I’m…I’m glad you’re around.”

Spike beamed, but then his face fell again. “Wes,” he said quietly. “If I can’t…if either my bits aren’t working or this git we’re calling on decides I don’t make the cut, you’ll have to take over for me.”

It took a moment for Wes to parse out what Spike was saying, and when he did, he wished he hadn’t. “Um, well, uh…that’s flattering and all, but I’m not sure–”

Spike’s hand closed around Wes’ throat. “Are you saying my girl isn’t worth a go to save the sodding world?”

Oh, for pity’s sake, how was he supposed to answer that one without dying? The hand on his neck loosened just enough to let him breathe. “If called to service I will do as duty requires.”

“Dawn and Anne are going to have a world to be born into.” Spike shook Wes like a cat with a mouse.

“Yes, they will. I promise.”

Spike let him go and seemed to deflate. “Whatever keeps things ticking along like normal.”

“I promise,” Wes said again, feeling surer this time. Even if he didn’t want to think about it, Spike was right. He’d just lie back and think of England.

Oh, hell. It better not come to that.

Spike pursed his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re…you’re welcome. Now, shall we rejoin the others?” Wes said, gesturing towards the exit to the main exhibit floor. Please, before this situation got any weirder. Spike nodded and trotted ahead, stopping beside Lorne, who was staring at the Set Box.

“I expected it to be bigger.” Lorne’s face was pinched with worry.

Dalton looked up from where he was positioning items on a makeshift altar. “I keep getting stuck on how old it is,” he said. “How much it’s had to survive and what it’s had to go through to end up here, in a children’s science museum.”

Lorne shook his head.

“They look like spiders, giant white spiders.” Anya’s voice echoed in the large room.

“I think they’re supposed to be mountains? Because there’s a lot of those in Washington,” Xander said. They must be discussing the five towering arches that were the hallmark of The Pacific Science Center.

Clem was lighting candles. “They kind of look like spaceships.”

There was female laughter from the far side of the room as Buffy, Tara, Willow, and Fred came out of the small room they’d been getting Buffy ready in. Fred’s hair was up in a ponytail and she had a stethoscope in her hand. Wes had told her what they were doing and she’d insisted on coming along to check on Buffy and the girls. It made Wes both happy and nervous, because what if something happened to Fred? He’d feel like it was his fault.

Spike stumbled over to stand beside Wes and put a hand on Wes’ shoulder again, though this time it felt like Spike was trying to hold himself upright.

“Oh god,” Spike whimpered. Wes followed his gaze to find he was staring at Buffy. Her long hair was loose, a few small braids plaited into it with lapis beads at the ends that he knew Tara had blessed. Her eyes were kohled as well, making them look large and giving her a mysterious air. She wore a simple white linen dress, the deep vee-neck displaying the handmade necklace she wore. The dress had been made to accommodate her pregnant belly, but then only fell to mid-thigh. Symbols had been painted on her skin as well. He could see them on her breasts and thighs where they disappeared under the dress. Wes was suddenly grateful he hadn’t had to paint any lower on Spike than his stomach.

“She’s radiant,” Wes said. Buffy was almost glowing as she giggled at something Willow said.

The hand on Wes’ shoulder tightened and claws bit in. “Ouch,” he said, turning to look at Spike, who was wearing his demon face. The vampire growled low in his throat before very deliberately removing his hand from Wes. Spike reached down and adjusted the rather obvious bulge in his pants before growling again. Wes patted Spike on the back, careful not to touch any of the painted-on markings. “It’s okay, you win, she’s all yours. Now go get her, tiger.” Spike narrowed his yellow eyes but stalked off to Buffy’s side, where he settled a hand on her hip as his vampire features receded. They smiled shyly at each other and Spike’s hand went from gripping to petting.

Wes cleared his throat. It was time to get things rolling before Buffy and Spike got ahead of everyone else. At least there was no worry about things ‘working’ now. “Shall we start?”

There was a chorus of assent and everyone went to stand in their designated places. Spike and Buffy were in the center of a circle created by the others, standing atop a green blanket meant to provide a little cushioning during their…part of the ritual. Willow cleansed the circle of negative influences with salt water and Tara blessed it with smoke from sweet smelling incense. Holding a wand, Willow created the magic circle, really a sphere, that would contain and focus the energy created.

Wes shuffled his feet and gripped the index card he was holding tightly. The words, given to them on the scroll, had been too complicated to memorize easily, but Tara had said reading them off a card wasn’t going to mess anything up. When it was his turn, Wes asked for the element of air to witness the ritual. He felt ridiculous at first and his voice shook, but partway through his little speech he could feel something happening. A gathering of energy in his chest. His voice became louder and more sure, and the words, about knowledge and thought, resonated inside him. 

As the ceremony continued, Wes stopped feeling like he was a little boy play acting and instead like they were really doing something. Energy swirled inside the circle, building and growing. The temperature rose and he had to wipe sweat from his brow. Spike, arms crossed and hands resting on his shoulders called upon Osiris to join them and offered up his body to the god. Finally, Buffy, her arms wide and her legs more than shoulder width apart, invoked Isis, calling on the Goddess to bless them with her presence and offering her body as a vessel.

Wes could feel the power humming and swirling around Buffy and Spike. He chanted along with the others in the circle, a simple, repeating tune with sounds more than words, except for the names of Isis and Osiris. It got louder with each repetition. Spike helped Buffy to her knees, then lay down beside her. She straddled his hips and their gazes locked. Spike’s hands rested on her abdomen, spreading out to cradle it.  They were subtly rocking together. The chant crested and, as if on cue, everyone fell silent.

Wes’ eyes went to the yellow Set Box, but it remained unchanged.

A new energy started rising, red, hot, and raw. Buffy threw her head back and moaned.

Willow took a knife and cut a hole in the energy of the circle and they all quickly filed out, leaving Buffy and Spike to complete their part of the ritual. They exited as unobtrusively as possible through a side door. Outside, the air felt freezing. Clem sat down on the sidewalk and dipped a hand into the water of one of the Science Center’s central pools. Wes’ body sagged and he felt drained, as if he’d left part of himself back in the circle.

He turned to compliment Willow and Tara on their excellent work, but they had their arms around each other and were snogging like there was no tomorrow. He swiveled his head the other way to find Anya making out with Xander, his back against the wall. Even Lorne had Dalton’s face cupped between his hands and was kissing him with enough fervor that the vampire’s glasses were askew.

A hand landed on Wes’ arm. “Um,” Fred said. “Wes, I need to…I need to…” He looked down into her sweet face. Her eyes were luminous and her lips parted. She was beautiful. He put an arm around her and pulled her slight form against him. Wes knew exactly what she needed, what he needed for that matter.

He kissed her.


	30. Candy Bar

 

I find the answers aren't so clear

                -Linkin Park, “One Step Closer”

 

Rest In Peace, Chester

****

It was hard to focus on…anything.

Spike’s mind was spinning, tumbling, turning. Images–of rivers flooding, seeds sprouting, the sun rising and setting–repeated themselves over and over.

Buffy’s body was hot, burning. She smelled of summer, life, and…

The images in his mind changed, reeled, settled on a plow turning over rich, dark earth.

Oh god, he was hard, his prick aching with desire. He needed her.

The image of his cock sliding into Buffy’s slick quim replaced everything else. He surged up against her and she cried out, but he still had his pants on. Under her dress she was bare and his hands outlined the curves of her hips, her belly, her breasts.

She was life. She created it. Nurtured it. Sustained it.

Fuck, he wanted to fuck her.

Fingers clumsy, he fumbled with the button and zip of his jeans, finally freeing his cock. Vaguely he remembered that Buffy had been worried, she hadn’t done it like this and might be unsure of what to do.

Vision blurry, he tried to say something to reassure her, but Buffy gave an impatient growl, knocked his hands away, and wrapped her palm around his shaft. She hitched her hips, gave a little cry, and impaled herself on him.

Heaven.

Flowers bloomed, fruit ripened, stalks of grain hung heads heavy with seed.

His fingers grasped her hips.

His goddess.

Buffy moved tentatively, rocking, and the slide of his cock against the sweet walls of her pussy was indescribable.  The flimsy material of her dress ripped easily and she was bared to his gaze. He flattened his palms on the swell of her stomach as her first slight movements developed into a rolling rhythm. The bliss was overwhelming. She was the sky. His sky.    

Christ, he couldn’t stop touching her now for anything. The scent of her was driving him wild. He wanted to rut like an animal, make her scream, fill her with his come until she overflowed with it.

Spike abruptly realized he wasn’t alone in his head. There was a presence, some…thing, that wanted control. His vision swam, for an instant Buffy’s image waivered and was replaced with that of a woman with midnight black hair and unfathomable eyes. Spike frowned and fought against it. He wanted his girl.

The presence in his mind stretched and tried to shove Spike out of the way. Spike snarled and pushed back. Buffy was his and–

It felt like he was slapped aside, batted like a bit of yarn. His consciousness spun sideways. The room disappeared, Buffy disappeared, and he was whirling through darkness.

He landed on his feet on the straw covered floor of a sour smelling barn. He was dressed in his usual: black shirt, jeans, boots, and duster. The only light was a dim and flickering oil lamp. Horses moved uneasily in their stalls and one kicked its door.

Spike blinked and for an instant he was back in Seattle, Buffy moving above him, but with the next blink he was returned to the stable. He felt torn, stretched thin, as if he was in too many places at once. And the other presence was still there. It eddied in his mind, immensely powerful.

Osiris.

Spike was stuck somewhere between being pleased that the god had found him an acceptable vessel and bloody pissed that he was missing out on shagging Buffy.

There was a soft chuckle in his mind and the feeling of…acceptance. Spike hated himself for how much he craved it. Osiris had looked at his heart and found him worthy.

_Yes_ , came a single, solemn word.

Peace settled into his chest and his gaze was pulled to the far corner of the barn. A man was crouched in the shadows there. Intrigued, Spike walked towards him. Several of the horses stuck their heads out and whinnied at him as he passed and Spike paused to stroke the nose of a large chestnut gelding. It seemed like the poor things had missed their dinner.

The man hadn’t moved, but it wasn’t until Spike was standing right in front of him that he recognized him.

It was himself, demon features visible.

Spike frowned as his other-self snarled. The effect wasn’t as nearly as scary as he’d always thought it was.

“Quit it,” Spike said and, to his surprise, his other-self did. Judging from his other-self’s hair and clothes this couldn’t have been too long after he’d been turned. Spike glanced around the dusty barn again and memories tickled the back of his brain. He remembered this. It’d been an out of the way inn and stagecoach stop in the Ottoman Empire. Darla had been off doing who knows what, and she’d instructed the rest of the Whirlwind to meet her here. Angelus, Drusilla, and he had slaughtered every man, woman, and child in the place.

It’d been a grand night, right up until Angelus had pushed up Drusilla’s skirts and taken her amid the blood and carnage of the main room. Dru had cooed and giggled as she’d eagerly wrapped her legs around Angelus’ waist. Spike had been forgotten. His heart had plummeted and shattered yet again. Hurting, he’d abandoned the inn to sulk in the barn where the guttural cries of the other two vampires would be muffled. His demon had taken over, pushing intellect and reason away so the pain wouldn’t be so bad. Not that the demon understood why its Sire was so quick to abandon him.

The massacre itself felt off to Spike now. Buffy would be so disappointed. And it was impossible not to imagine Anne and Dawn’s lives being snuffed out with such indifference. The thought made him angry and confused. He was supposed to like the fear and the death, but it was different when you were the one who had something to lose.

He didn’t feel bad that for the deaths he’d caused that night, but he knew he wouldn’t do the same again.

Pushing aside his uncertainty, Spike squatted down in front of his other-self. “You poor, silly sod,” Spike said with a shake of his head. There were tear tracks beneath the yellow eyes of his other-self. “It does no good to cry over her. Drusilla hardly knows what she’s doing.”

His other-self whimpered like a kicked dog.

Spike smiled and sighed. What an idiot he’d been. Spike knew that, at the moment, the part of his other-self that was still human was so buried under shame and heartbreak that it was hardly conscious. But he could still speak to the demon, give it a way forward. This part of the night, what had happened in the barn, was a blank in his own memory. He did know he’d gone into the stable thinking to walk into the morning sun but came out with a determination to keep going that had surprised even him.

The straw rasped against itself as his other-self shifted uneasily and whined.

“Look, mate,” Spike said. “I know you’re hurting, but Drusilla has no idea she’s breaking you heart. Love her the best you can and take care of her. I know you will. She needs and loves you, even if she can never express that in the way you want her to. Don’t expect it of her.” Spike took a deep breath. “And keep going, because one day you’re going to find a woman that will be everything that your heart desires. She’ll be all fire and passion and return your love, whether or not you deserve it. Or her, for that matter.”

The ridiculous look of hope on his other-self’s face was almost comical. “Tell me,” his other-self lisped eagerly around his fangs.

“She’s gorgeous, all glorious blonde hair and green eyes.” Spike didn’t even try to hide the grin that split his face. “She’s on the short side, but so full of fire that she seems to bring light into any room she’s in. Nice tits, hips that feel shaped for our hands. Sweet cunny that she’ll beg us to fill over and over.”

His other-self snuffled and sighed dreamily.

“Yeah, she’s a vision.” A corner of Spike’s mind was aware that his actual body was still loving Buffy, a hundred years in the future and thousands of miles away from the poorly-lit barn. “Oh, and she’ll be pregnant when we meet her.” His other-self looked puzzled. “Trust me,” Spike said, still grinning. “It’s a bloody wonder and you’re never going to see something as amazing as her heavy with life.”

His other-self tilted his head to the side and seemed to consider this. After a minute, his other-self reached down and adjusted his cock behind the front flap of his trousers.

Spike chuckled. “Yeah, mate, you’ve got that part right.”

“She loves us?” his other-self asked. The hunger and desperation behind the question stunned Spike. Had he really been that empty? He’d forgotten how low he’d sunk. Over the years he’d tried to fill the void with his love for Drusilla, but it’d never been enough.  Pretending that it was had occupied huge swaths of his life.

“Yes.” Spike could have elaborated, but the simple word seemed better. Buffy was the dream he’d chased since he could remember. Her heart was his and in turn she treasured his. Trying to convey the enormity of that through words was an impossible task.

His other-self looked at him with pleading eyes. “When?”

“Not soon enough. Be strong, fight, care for your Sire, and remember that someday you’ll know joy.”

“How will I know when I’ve found her?”

Spike briefly closed his eyes. “When you do, you’ll know.”

His other-self grumped at the non-answer.

“You should sleep,” he told his other-self. “Angelus will come get you when it’s time to leave.”

His other-self nodded and leaned back against the wooden wall of the barn.

“I hope you dream of her,” Spike said, and then time twisted and reality dropped away. Spike wasn’t in a barn anymore, instead he was whipping through years. Images paused and hung before his eyes. Things he’d nearly forgotten.

Like trailing a short, blonde woman out of a pub in York and pushing her up against the dirty bricks of an alley. She was pregnant, terrified, and dressed in a skirt that said ‘flapper’. Spike had put his hand around her throat and stared into her eyes, but she’d only screamed in horror and tried to twist away. Spike had let her go and she’d run off. He hadn’t understood the disappointment that had writhed in his chest.

The scene had more or less repeated itself two or three times a decade. He’d see a blonde pregnant woman, accost her, and then let her go. Every time his demon had rushed to the fore, searching the faces of the women, only to be left hollow and aching every time. He’d stopped looking after New York in the 70s. Though since he hadn’t known what he was doing in the first place, he hadn’t understood why he felt like he’d been lied to about something. That a promise had been broken.

Until Seattle.

Until a petite, blonde, pregnant firecracker had collapsed into his arms.

His demon had known immediately what he was holding and had cleaved to Buffy and her daughters, aware that at last it’d found what it’d longed for.

Spike gasped as he returned to his body. Love was spilling out of him like a fountain. He was seconds away from coming. The need to do so was intense. His balls drew up tight and he gripped Buffy’s hips, ready to explode inside of his beloved.

****

_Earlier…_

Buffy hardly felt like herself as she straddled Spike.

She’d been expecting almost anything but the intense waves of lust that were traveling through her body.

Her fear was forgotten. Riley’s words became ash carried away by the hurricane of her desire. The room had faded and reality had become the man below her. She ground against the hardness of his cock.

Images of vast green fields filled her mind, then eggs hatching, cows birthing calves, and her own rounded belly. Life spiraled into infinity. Creation. It wasn’t only a biological process. She saw libraries and the space shuttle. Generation of ideas. The power was erupting from her.

She needed…Spike. Inside her. Life. Life from death. Primal forces were surrounding her, driving her to join with the man under her. Seed and field.

Spike pushed his jeans down and her entire being focused on his cock.

That was it. That was what she needed. The plow that readied the earth.

Spike was trying to speak, but she was too impatient for words or for whatever he was doing. She pushed his hands away and positioned the head of his thick member against her opening before sinking down onto it.

She cried out as she was filled.

Looking down at his awed face she knew that the secrets of the universe were hers and that he was but a worshiper before the altar of her body.

It made her mind spin.

She moved her hips, quickly figuring out how to raise and lower herself on his shaft. Bone-deep pleasure was coiling inside her. Spike ripped the dress from her body and she was not ashamed to be naked before him. She was life.

As Spike’s hands cradled her belly, for an instant he changed, became a dark-haired man with black eyes. Buffy huffed and dismissed the image. She wanted her vampire.

A presence blossomed inside her. It was loving, powerful, demanding.

Isis.

One second Buffy was sharing her mind and body with the goddess, and the next Buffy found herself standing in a desert. Heat made the air shimmer and empty sand stretched away in all directions.

Part of her was still aware that she was riding her lover in a museum in Seattle, but what was around her felt just as real.

A figure walked over the crest of a dune and approached. It was a dark-skinned woman with white designs painted on her skin.

“Sister,” the woman said.

“Uh, hi.” Buffy didn’t know what to make of the woman.

“I am your destiny.”

Well, that was dramatic. “And you are?”

“The First Slayer.”

Oh, not just no, but hell no. “I think you have the wrong person, I’m so not going to be a Slayer. I’m too old, and I’m pregnant, and I love a vampire.”

The world flickered into night. “Do you think you were the first?” the woman asked, looking behind her to where a man stood on the crest of a dune. The moon came out from behind a cloud and silver light gleamed on the ridges of his brow.

“Oh,” Buffy said, as the light returned. The man was gone.

“History doesn’t like to remember that part.” The woman’s smile was indulgent.

“Why am I here?” Buffy asked, fanning her face with one hand. Dry heat only mattered when it wasn’t a trillion degrees.

“You have to fight.”

“No?” Buffy crossed her arms. “I’m eight months pregnant. Not happening.”

“Here you are not.”

Buffy looked down and screamed. Her stomach, beneath her white dress, was flat.

“They’re safe,” the woman said, steadying Buffy with a hand on her shoulder. Buffy briefly returned to where she was working herself on Spike’s cock on the floor of the museum. The weight of Dawn and Anne was a comfort. Buffy blinked and was back in the desert. The woman’s hand squeezed. “This is a fight you must face alone. I will lend you my power as you do not yet have your own.” Strength flooded Buffy’s body. The woman’s eyes met Buffy’s. “Fight for your daughters, for your lover. Give them a world to live in.” The woman disappeared and Buffy shivered, cold despite the heat.

There was a sound behind her. Something big was moving under the sand. She needed a weapon. The though had no sooner formed than her hands were wrapping around the wooden shaft of a long spear with a wicked looking barbed tip. Buffy bit her lip. She’d trained a little with a staff, but not a spear. Later, she was so going to tell Wes off for, uh, not magically knowing she would need to know how to wield a spear.

It didn’t matter if it wasn’t fair.

Buffy lowered the spear’s point towards where the sand was shifting. With a roar, a huge black boar wrenched itself free of the ground. It shook the sand from its coat and regard Buffy with red eyes. Its humped shoulders were at least twice as tall as Buffy and ivory colored tusks several feel long gleamed in the desert sun.

Oh crap.

How was she supposed to fight Babe’s nasty older cousin?

The boar lowered its head, pawed the sand, and charged. The tip of the spear wavered and Buffy threw herself out of the way at the last moment. Hooves thundered past inches from her head, shaking the ground, but it was the feelings that the boar dragged in its wake that truly terrified her.

Desolation and loneliness. 

She’d been so unloved that even pregnant, the man who had fathered her children had tossed her aside like trash. She was worthless.

Buffy grabbed her spear and stood. Her hand shook and she lowered the tip towards the boar, who was ten yards away, snuffing and swinging its head back and forth.

“C’mon, you jerky pig-face,” Buffy yelled. She could have sworn the boar was laughing at her.

Oceans of isolation tried to drown her.

She found herself shivering, huddled under a bush in a park, her back against the rough bark of a tree. She pulled her thin coat tighter around her, fruitlessly trying to keep out winter’s cold. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten in two days and she felt weak from it. It was Thanksgiving. If she was home there’d be turkey and all the trimmings. But she wasn’t at home, and there would be no holiday meal this year, unless she risked a shelter. But you put a bunch of desperate people together…often she felt safer outdoors.

Her parents had abandoned her. Not loved her enough to see past how she’d embarrassed them. Not cared enough about their own flesh and blood to keep her safe.

Her stomach had ached with its emptiness.

The past faded and she was facing the boar again. It snorted and lowered its head. Bellowing, it charged. Buffy kept her feet under her this time. She danced aside while swinging the spear with all her borrowed might. It bounced off the bristled black fur as the creature barreled past her.

Buffy groaned.

What the hell?

The next Thanksgiving swam before her eyes. Riley’s mother staring at her as Buffy desperately tried to make a delicious homecooked meal in the tiny kitchen of Riley’s apartment, with no experience and even less help. Riley and his dad had been laughing together in the living room over drinks.

During the meal, his mother had criticized everything, from the dryness of the turkey–Buffy had thought it wasn’t too bad and everyone had still eaten it–to the fact she hadn’t left the butter for the rolls out long enough before the meal and it was still too hard.

Riley hadn’t said a word in her defense.

In bed that night Riley had loomed over her, telling her not to make a sound so she wouldn’t wake his parents, and putting a hand over her mouth to ensure her silence as he’d quickly used her body to slake his own needs. When he’d finished, he’d collapsed on his side, back towards her, and fallen asleep. Buffy had lain there, tears in her eyes she didn’t dare shed. She’d been warm and her belly had been full, but in the dark she’d hungered for something else. One soft look, one sweet word.

Her heart had ached with its emptiness.

Buffy shook away the vision. The boar was eyeing her, intelligence in its piercing eyes. It knew what it was doing.

“Set,” she breathed.

The boar tossed its head and set its shoulders. This time, when it charged, Buffy braced the butt of the spear against her shoulder and dropped to her knee, thinking to use the creature’s momentum against it. The shock of the boar hitting the spear drove her backwards as she struggled to keep her footing.

The spear’s tip once more slid over the animal’s tough hide, opening only the tiniest of gashes. The creature, coat stinking in the desert heat, lashed out with a hoof as it passed Buffy. She screamed as something in her leg snapped.

Somehow she stood, but she couldn’t put any weight on that leg.

The boar snorted and looked smug.

Did it think it had won?

Oh god, had it won?

The last Thanksgiving spun in front of Buffy’s eyes. She’s woken up alone in her narrow hospital bed. The man she’d believed loved her had left, content to abandon her to the coldness of the world rather than fight for her…

But no, that was wrong.

She frowned.

Spike had shown up later that day…

She could feel something scrambling to pull the vision away from her, but it was too late. Spike’s absolute joy when she’d opened her arms to him replayed in her head. And, hey, they’d both totally eaten pork for dinner.

Buffy’s eyes snapped open. What was the boar but so much ham? She yipped when she looked at herself. She was no longer flesh and blood, but bright white, shining energy. The spear was no longer quite a spear. It pulsed red. It was love. Spike had given it to her, had taught her what love was. The spear glowed brighter as her answering love joined his.

Buffy smiled wickedly at the boar. From deep inside she brought forth the love she had for her daughters. This monster wanted to keep the world from them, but it hadn’t counted on what she held inside herself. Her mother’s love passed from her hands to curl like green ivy around the shaft of her spear.

The creature, the god, roared. It pawed the ground and the fury of a storm gathered behind its eyes as it prepared to charge.

Buffy didn’t let it. Drawing back her arm she threw the spear. It rushed towards the boar, straight and true, but just as it was about to hit, it burst apart, becoming long lengths of chain that wrapped around the boar and dragged the monster as it bellowed and thrashed, below the surface of the sand, until no trace was left.

Buffy’s legs gave out and she sagged to her knees, yelling at the pain in her broken one. But as soon as she hit the sand the pain evaporated and she was back in Seattle, her cry one of pleasure.

 Her body was wound impossibly tight. Spike’s fingers gripped her hips and he bucked up against her, his cock deep inside her. Her head dropped back and she moaned.

“Buffy,” Spike said raggedly, then he thrust furiously and howled. The first spurt of his come inside her set her off and she peaked in a dizzying eruption that raced like wildfire up her spine. It went on and on, bliss overwhelmed every sense until she felt like nothing but a conduit for ecstasy.

Then abruptly it was gone and she sagged forward, Spike’s hands guiding her to lay beside him.

****

“Hey, guys,” a voice broke through Willow’s stupor. She was wrapped around Tara, her hand under Tara’s shirt, caressing a breast. Willow hesitated and Tara mewled in protest, kissing Willow harder, but the voice spoke up again. “Um, guys, I think Mr. Trick’s bad-guy cronies might be coming.”

That was a bucket of cold water. Willow reluctantly let her girlfriend go and turned toward Clem. Around her, the other couples were untangling themselves and straightening clothing as well.

Clem pointed towards the street. “A bunch of big black SUVs just cruised by and then I heard engines revving and tires squealing down the street.”

“Hell,” Wes said, squinting his eyes in the direction Clem was pointing. His glasses were on top of his head and an amused looking Fred reached up and pushed them down into place.

Everyone looked at the door to the Egyptian exhibit.

“Do you think they’re done?” Dalton asked.

“I hope so,” Willow replied. “Because we just ran out of time.” When no one else moved, she grabbed Tara and pulled her towards the door. “You need to do a very fast dismissal of the circle and energies and I’ll pack up and get Buffy and Spike.”

Tara nodded. Biting her lip, Willow opened the door. Once inside, Tara made short work of the words and motions that thanked the energies and entities that’d helped with the magic and ritual and bid them goodbye.

Willow found Buffy lying cuddled beside Spike, the quilt that’d been on the floor now wrapped around them. Willow shook Buffy’s shoulder. “Mr. Trick’s minions are on their way, we have to go.”

Both Buffy and Spike looked at Willow like she was speaking a foreign language.

Shoving things into the duffel bags that also contained Buffy and Spike’s clothes, Willow tried again, focusing on Spike. “Look, unless you want Trick getting his mitts on Buffy, we need to get out of here.”

Spike lifted his head off the floor. “He can’t have her. Buffy’s mine. My Buffy.” He stroked Buffy’s hair.

“Spike gave me a spear!” Buffy said, sounding very pleased with herself.

“Yeah, I did,” Spike purred and Willow groaned.

“Scary, evil demons on their way. We leave now or Dawn and Anne will be hurt.” Willow wondered if she was going to need even smaller words as both Buffy and Spike seemed completely dazed.

Tara was staring at the Set Box. “Look, the carvings…” She brushed her fingers over one. The once worn and almost unrecognizable carvings were standing out in high relief and painted in bright, vivid colors.

Only now the one of Isis with her hand on Osiris’ chest suspiciously looked like Buffy and Spike.

“I think that means it worked. Now up, or babies die!” Willow hissed the last at the couple on the floor.

“Right,” Spike said. “Time to go.” He stood, pulling Buffy up with him. Willow spun away with a startled yelp.

“You two are still naked!” she squeaked.

“That happens because sex and stuff,” Buffy explained earnestly.

Spike managed to pull his jeans up and Tara made sure the quilt was wrapped around Buffy.

Willow, bags in hand, led the way back outside. The others were clumped together and as Willow looked towards the street, she could see dark shapes prowling towards them.

“My feet,” Buffy whispered. She and Spike were still shoeless.

For a second, Willow thought Spike’s brain might have cleared as he watched the approaching figures. But then he swept Buffy up into his arms and vamped out. “My Buffy!” he snarled.

Wes looked at Willow and she shrugged. “The magic really whammied them. Spike’s a toddler and Buffy’s kind of high.”

“Love spear!” Buffy confirmed.

Wes looked like he knew better than to ask.

Once Lorne made sure Spike was pointed in the right direction, he led the group back inside through a different door and past an exhibit of animatronic dinosaurs that were really creepy in the dark. They moved as fast as they could with Xander’s mostly healed leg and a dazed vampire carrying a pregnant woman.

 Lorne took them from the exhibit to a back hallway, around a few corners, and then out through an alarmed door into the street. Emergency buzzers went off and lights illuminated along the length of the building.

They rushed to the van that Xander had borrowed from a friend and Wes jumped into the driver’s seat. Willow was the last in and she slammed the door shut as they pulled away from the curb. She muffled a scream as a fist smashed into the back door of the van. Willow risked glancing out the window and found herself looking into the pissed-off yellow eyes of who she could only assume was Mr. Trick. They promised pain.

Willow turned away and scooted over on the seat so she could lean against Tara.

“Can I have the red duffle bag?” Clem asked. Fred pulled it off the floor and shakily handed it to him. “I thought we all might need provisions so I brought some candy bars.”

“Chocolate is really grounding,” Tara said, accepting a Twix and giving half to Willow. It tasted better than it had any right to.

Spike was feeding Buffy squares of a Hershey bar and eating a few himself.

The terrified silence of the van turned into satisfied munching noises and little sounds of chocolatey enjoyment.

“Hey,” Willow said around her candy. “Guess what? We, like, totally saved the world.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.

“Yay!” Buffy cheered, but then her face became serious and she turned to Willow. “Did you know Spike tastes good with chocolate?”

“Wes,” Willow said, wondering where Spike’s hand had disappeared to under the quilt and if all the happy noises Buffy was making were from the candy. “Can we drop them off first?”


	31. Blackberry Honey

 

Is something wrong

                -Pearl Jam, “Alive”

****

Buffy sat on one end of the futon, which was currently folded up as a couch. On the other end was the lavender bag that was her official bag to take with her to the hospital when she went into labor. Spike called it the ‘oh shit’ bag. They were finishing up packing it, even if, with her being 37 weeks along, they were a bit late.

She was more than aware that she could go into labor at any moment, and if she was aware, then Spike was on red-alert. If Buffy so much as winced, he was immediately hovering over her to make sure she was okay and not about to produce a baby. It was sweet and annoying.

Four days a week she was still going to The Sun Thief to work with Wes, mostly so she could get out of the house. There was no more physical training since she could barely waddle, but after Buffy had been able to explain to Lorne and Wes about what had happened during the ritual–without sounding too much like a mental case–they’d both agreed it was only a matter of time before she was called. Which was terrible. Some girl Buffy didn’t even know the name of had to die so that Buffy could become a mystical warrior for good. She still believed it wasn’t going to happen. She was Dawn and Anne’s mom and Spike’s girlfriend, and that was pretty much it. The magical boar-trapping in the desert had been cool and everything, but dream fights were way different than reality.

Though sometimes Buffy wanted to shout at rude people that she’d saved their life so they should be at least a little nicer, and maybe let her cut in line when her feet felt like they were going to fall off.

Did she even still have feet?  Or ankles? It wasn’t like she’d seen them in months.

Then there was the problem of Mr. Trick. It’d been almost three weeks since the museum, but none of their group had seen or heard anything from him. Once in a while she was still able to pick out cronies of his that were tailing her, but none were as obvious as the first emo kid had been. Nobody, even Lorne, had any idea what Mr. Trick’s game was now. Her boss had gotten word from an informant that Mr. Trick had been buying some TV cameras and broadcast equipment, but they hadn’t known what for, and neither Buffy nor anyone else had the slightest theory about what he could be doing with it. Spike had jokingly suggested porn, which at this point seemed as likely as anything else.

To be safe, Buffy still had the Gem of Amara stuck in her bra. The consensus was that the twins needed to be born before they considered any further action against Mr. Trick. Hopefully they’d figure something out shortly after that, because Buffy was really missing Spike being with her during the day.

Sighing, Buffy put her hands on her belly. Being this pregnant really sucked. She either couldn’t breathe, had heartburn, or had to pee. Her back hurt ninety percent of the time, no matter how much Spike rubbed it and her boobs were huge and felt kind of weird as they geared up to be the newest trendy lunch spot for hungry infants. The pink maternity dress she had on even looked like it was struggling to deal with her baby bump.

Spike came out of the bathroom with a ziplock bag full of toiletries and held up an unopened toothbrush. “It’s yellow, is that okay?” He was acting like the color of her toothbrush was of monumental importance.

“It’s fine,” she said with the wave of a hand.  

Spike dropped it and the ziplock into the hospital bag and sat down beside her. “You doing okay, luv?”

“I’m sick and tired of being pregnant, but besides that, I’m good.”

Spike rested his hand on her belly. “Girls are sleeping.”

“Yeah, they were busy earlier and tired themselves out.”

He slid his palm over her abdomen. “I can’t wait to meet them.” His voice was hoarse.

“Me too, but they’re being stubborn. I walk around and around until I’m dizzy, but they’re staying put.” She leaned back and put her elbow over her eyes. “I’ve been pregnant forever.”

“Not much longer,” Spike murmured. His hand slipped lower. “How about a little massage? We haven’t done that yet today.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, even though they were covered. He didn’t mean her back. Fred had suggested perineal massage to help Buffy prepare for giving birth, and once Spike figured out that involved fingers in her vagina, he’d volunteered himself for duty. He always gave her a happy ending, and usually himself as well. Which worked out since her body was increasingly uncooperative with actual penetration. It was uncomfortable at best now, which drove her batty. Though if it bothered Spike, he never showed it. Instead he came up with all kinds of creative ways to physically express his love for her and they were all wonderful, and…great, now she was cranky because Spike was being caring.

How long would it be after the girls were born before her hormones quit with the wacky?

She dropped her arm back on the sofa. “Sure, I’m not even wearing underwear. It was too complicated to put any on this morning.”

Looking delighted–drat him–Spike bunched up her skirt. He nabbed the bottle of unscented oil they used for this off the coffee table and lubed his fingers before sliding off the futon to kneel between her legs.

“Open up, kitten.”

Buffy obediently spread her knees further apart. He kissed the insides of her thighs, lingering over them, then brought his hands to her pussy. Gently, he massaged the lips of her sex, making her sigh. After a few moments he hooked first one thumb and then the other inside the lower edge of her vagina and began to stretch the skin there down and outward, the same way it would be when she was giving birth. Somehow, he always did it just right so he never hurt her. The hope was that by getting her body ready she would have fewer problems during delivery. It felt weird and oddly intimate.

Only having Spike with his hands touching her down there and the rest of him between her legs inevitably led her mind, and then body, down the garden path of desire. He was excellent at figuring out when she’d reached that tipping point, too. Which seemed to be happening quickly today.

Spike leaned back and grinned up at her. “Impatient, are we?”

“Mmmm, yeah.” She wiggled her hips as much as she could. “Shirt off, mister.” She liked to see him even if she couldn’t easily reach him with her baby bump in the way. He stripped it off with a leer before returning his hand to her pussy. He rubbed her clit and pressed his fingers against her opening, barely pressing inside her. His eyes were rapt on what his hand was doing.

There was the sound of him undoing his jeans one handed and he grunted softly as he took his cock in his hand and began to stroke.

Buffy bit her lip. She couldn’t really see anything. Since the ritual she’d been growing bolder, though it frustrated her to no end that her body wasn’t on board with her new found sexual freedom. It was like her final ties to Riley’s poisoned words had been severed when the boar had sunk below the sand and Buffy was at last figuring out who she had been sexually all along. “Spike,” she said, jiggling a knee. “Can you stand up for a moment?”

“Want a little look-see?” He arched an eyebrow as he gracefully rose.

Her toes curled.

His jeans were around his knees and her eyes traveled from the black fabric to where he was sliding his palm up and down his hard-on. Her nipples tightened painfully and chafed against her bra and she cupped her breasts and rubbed the aching points. Spike growled low in the back of his throat and his hand moved faster. Her channel was aching for him, she wanted his thick shaft inside her.

“Need you,” she gasped. “I probably can’t…not all of it. But please...” She spread her legs even further apart and moved her ass to the very edge of the futon’s cushions before grabbing the frame and leaning back to try and give him access.

Spike dropped to his knees. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

“You won’t, I’ll tell you when to stop.”

He nodded and positioned himself so the head of his cock was brushing her folds. He dragged it up to circle around her clit a few times, making her gasp, before returning to her opening. Slowly, he pushed his way inside her. His shaft wasn’t in as nearly as far as she wanted it to be when she had to hold up a hand.

“That’s…sorry, that’s all I can…”

“It’s perfect, luv.”

His fingers made little circles over her clit as he rocked his hips, sliding in and nearly out of her in a gentle rhythm. With his other hand, he worked the length of his cock that she couldn’t take.

The satisfaction of holding him within her body drove her quickly to her peak. Spike paused his actions as she orgasmed, watching her with indulgent eyes as she shuddered through her bliss. “You’re so lovely when you come,” he purred.

The second time he didn’t stop the movement of his cock inside her and she squealed her delight as she shook and her thighs quivered. Her nipples echoed with the pleasure of her climax.

Spike’s thrusts sped up, his lips parted, and his brows drew together. His face was almost pained looking as he found his rapture. He grunted something that might have been her name and his hips jerked as he spent himself inside her. When he came back down he pulled himself from her body and bowed his head to lay it against her belly.

“I love you so much,” he said, but his voice sounded choked. “But I’m so scared.”

She ran a hand over his hair. “I love you too, but scared? Of what?”

“You, giving birth.”

“You are?” She was worried about how gracefully she’d handle the pain, but she wasn’t really afraid of the process.

“It’s silly.” He paused to take a deep breath. “And I know medicine has come a long way, but when I was still alive…women…” he trailed off.

“They died,” Buffy said.

“Yeah.” He paused. “I can’t lose you.”

“I know.” She continued stroking his hair. She really wasn’t frightened that something would go wrong. She had a ton of other fears, but delivery complications weren’t one of them. She pursed her lips as she figured out why not. “I can’t actually promise anything, can I? But Lorne said we’d be there, raising our daughters. And he’s usually right. In Lorne we trust. So I’m choosing to believe him and that we’ll all make it through just fine.”

Spike smiled and looked up at her, but then his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “You’re leaking.”

“What?”

He touched her right breast. The front of her dress was wet.

“Eww.” She wrinkled her nose. “I thought that was supposed to wait until after they were born.”

“It barely smells like milk. It’s just your body preparing itself.”

“I can hardly wait to do my dairy cow impression, and ‘smells like milk’? Double eww. Get up!” She pushed at him and, chuckling, he rose and did up his jeans. His lips parted, but she cut him off. “I swear to god if you moo, you are sleeping at Dalton’s.”

Spike closed his mouth.

“I’m going to change. And you’re going to…” She crossed her arms.

“Order pizza for dinner?”

“Good boy.”

****

Mondays were dumb.

Buffy made another circuit of the training room while Wes droned on about something that she hoped wasn’t important. She wiggled her shoulders and reached up to adjust her bra strap and the ring, both of which were digging into her.

_Dawnie, Annie_ , she silently implored her babies, _mommy really wants you to be born_.

Dawn shifted and seemed to snuggle closer to her sister. Buffy sighed and rubbed her belly. They were never coming out.

After another couple circuits of the room there was a loud rumbling noise as Buffy’s stomach growled. She was hungry, and the clock said it was close to food time. Kind of. 10:30 was pretty close to noon.

“Are you listening, Buffy?” Wes asked.

Drat, she’d been busted. She was saved from replying as Willow breezed into the room with a glass of water for her and a soda for Wes.

“How’s the circling going?” Willow asked.

“I’m still pregnant,” Buffy said, glancing down at her baby bump.

“Tara says there’s a storm due on Thursday and that the low pressure might make you pop. Apparently, that’s a really common thing.”

Wes nodded as he sipped his drink. “I’ve heard of that as well.”

“At this point I’d Riverdance if I thought it’d make me go into labor.”

Willow giggled and Wes hid his smile behind his glass.

“It’ll happen soon enough,” Wes said. “And then you’ll be wondering what the rush was.”

Buffy stopped her pacing long enough to down half the glass Willow had brought her. It tasted wonderful, but her stomach still growled, loudly.

“Sounds like a bear,” Willow said.

“I feel like I could eat a bear,” Buffy grumbled. She frowned. Bears liked honey. Honey was yummy, especially the flavored kind that came in plastic straws, and super especially the kind that tasted like blackberries. Her mind blanked for a second as the remembered taste of blackberry honey exploded across her tongue.

“Buffy, are you all right?” Wes was beside her with a hand on her shoulder. Buffy realized she’d been so preoccupied that she’d been ignoring her Watcher and friend.

“Yup, except I don’t have any honey.”

Both Wes and Willow looked confused.

“Y’know? The stuff that bees make? There’s the kind that tastes like it’s been mixed with blackberries?”

“Ah,” Willow said and gave a sage nod. “I believe we’re dealing with a craving.”

Buffy nodded. “A majorly bad one. I might keel over without it and then you’ll have to explain to Spike why I passed out at work.”

Wes made a face. “Let’s avoid that one, shall we?”

“I’m teasing,” Buffy said, patting her Watcher’s arm. “So far no craving has resulted in unconsciousness, but I would like it to result in an early lunch.” She turned to Willow. “Do you think you could be spared for a few? We could walk over to Pike Place and grab some snacks and the honey.”

Willow shrugged. “Sure, sounds good to me.”

Wes briefly looked heavenward. “Fine. Bring me back a couple of Anjou pears. And then we are going to continue discussing ways to trap water-philic demons, understood?”

Buffy sketched a salute. “Yes, sir.”

Willow led the way to the front of the bar, grabbed their jackets, and let everyone know where they were going.

Outside, the sun was shining and a light breeze was blowing in off the Sound. The market was already hopping, it’s aisles packed with shoppers. The bright red sign that spelled out the market’s name welcomed them and Willow linked arms with Buffy as they walked underneath.

“Are you guys ready for the babies to get here?” Willow asked.

“Technically, yes.” Buffy eyed a stack of fresh scallops. They looked tempting. She wondered if Spike would be good with seafood for dinner. “And I’m more than ready to get out of super-pregnant land, but yesterday Spike sort of freaked on me. He got all worried that I was going to die in labor. I don’t know if he’s really tripped out about that, or just all the responsibility that’s going to show up on his doorstep along with the girls.”

Willow snorted. “Spike’s some kind of responsibility weirdo. If you told him you wanted him to entirely take care of the girls while you sat on the couch and watched TV and ate bonbons, I’m not sure he’d even bat an eye, just ask if you want chocolate truffles or ones with a cherry.”

Buffy halted and made a face at her friend.

“Not that I’m saying you’d do that.” Willow’s cheeks flushed pink. “But the guy sort of gets off on taking care of you. I don’t think he’s worried about diaper changing and 3 am feeds messing with his party life. It way more likely he’s terrified of absolutely anything that could take you away from him, and he’s as old as dirt and for most of his life childbearing killed a lot of women.” Willow shrugged. “So he’s not wrong to be freaked.”

“Now you’re wigging me out. I’ve been thinking about the pain but–“

“Oh look, plums!” Willow said, dragging Buffy over to a produce stall. “Plums are good, don’t you want one?”

“Sure.” She kind of did, and she let Willow change the subject with fruit. Willow bought a couple of plums and the pears Wes had wanted. They found a space out of the way of the flow of traffic and bit into the juicy, ripe plums.

“Oh my god,” Buffy moaned.

“It tastes of summer,” Willow said with a sigh.

After a few more bites, Buffy wiped her mouth. “So, how are things going with you and Tara?”

Willow smiled. “Super-fan-tabulous. I really love her, Buffy. It’s…easy, being with her. I don’t feel like I’m walking on eggshells and one wrong move will result in her dumping me.”

“I know how you feel.” Buffy took another bite of plum, chewed, and swallowed. “With Spike I can just be me. I don’t have to pretend I’m someone I’m not to make him happy.”

Willow giggled. “All you need to do to make him happy is to let him smush his face in your boobs.”

“Hey, he’s more complex than–“

“No, he’s not.”

“Okay, he’s not, but don’t even try to pretend you and Tara don’t do the same thing! You look down her shirt all the time.” Buffy wadded up the stone from her plum in her napkin and dropped them in a nearby bin.

“How do you think I know that’s what he wants? It’s hard to be sad when you have boobs in your face.” Willow’s trash joined Buffy’s in the can.

“You guys can form a club with a secret boob-lover’s handshake. Now, onwards to honey!”

The stall with the honey was at the far end of the market, almost outside. Buffy immediately grabbed three of the blackberry flavored straws and added a cinnamon one for Spike. Willow picked a huckleberry one and Buffy paid.

“Can you open one for me? I’ve totally been craving it,” she asked the vendor, an older gentleman with an easy smile. He clipped the top of one of her purchased straws and handed it to her. Buffy thanked him and sucked the gooey goodness into her mouth.

It was heaven. Her eyes fluttered and she groaned.

“Do you and your honey-straw need to be alone?” Willow asked, nudging Buffy with an elbow.

“Mmm, maybe.” Buffy kneaded the plastic to get the very last of it out. “Thanks Willow, I feel a million times better.” She glanced around and saw a trashcan next to an art vendor a few stalls away. “I’ll just go toss this out and we can either head back or...how are you guys doing on candles?”

“We need more, and shopping is always better than working.”

With a nod, Buffy threaded her way through the crowd and tossed away her trash. Before she even turned back around, she knew something was wrong.

The noise of the crowd swelled. She spun to see a man in a knit cap and a dark green jacket trying to grab Willow, who screamed and kicked. Buffy took two steps forward and her eyes met Willow’s panicked ones as the man wrapped his arms around Willow from behind her and lifted her up.

“Buffy!” Willow yelled. “Buffy!”

Buffy didn’t get it at first, she thought Willow was calling for help, but then a hand clamped down on her mouth from behind and an arm locked around her neck. She gasped, and then coughed as she inhaled a powder that was concealed in the palm over her face.

Her vision started to go fuzzy and her knees buckled, but there were hands on her, dragging her away. She tried to struggle, fight back for her girls, but her limbs wouldn’t move. She thought she saw a flash of light and heard a howl from Willow’s direction. Only when she turned her head to look, the world spun and went dark.  

****

Willow watched in horror as Buffy was taken by two men in broad daylight. Almost no one was looking at Buffy because Willow had been screaming. In desperation, Willow called on her magic to create a mini lightning bolt to get rid of the guy holding her. It worked and the guy dropped her and hollered, but it was too late.

Buffy’s head lolled forward like she was unconscious and she was pushed inside the rear of a black SUV. The vehicle’s door slammed closed and the guy that’d been attacking Willow gave her a malicious grin and ran off. She’d been nothing except a diversion.

“Lady, are you okay?” a woman asked. Willow shook her head.

“The police are on their way,” someone else said. That woke Willow up. There was only one person that would take Buffy, and Mr. Trick didn’t answer to the police.

Willow took off running, passing stunned shoppers. She hurtled through the aisles and didn’t stop until she flew through the door of The Sun Thief. Startled patrons looked up from their lunches as she stood, shivering, in the middle of the dining room.

Lorne came out from behind the bar, followed by Tara. Wes stood up from the booth where he was sitting, his sandwich forgotten.

“He took her,” Willow said, her voice trembling with fear. “Mr. Trick has Buffy.”


	32. Lemons

Seems every path leads me to nowhere

                -Alice in Chains, Rooster

****

Wes hesitated a moment before knocking on the apartment door. The wasn’t an answer, so he knocked harder, and, hearing a few muttered words inside, he waited. The door creaked open and a sleepy looking Dalton peered out.

“Wes?” he asked, tightening the belt on his robe.

“Mr. Trick abducted Buffy about thirty minutes ago,” Wes said in a low voice. “Broad daylight in front of a crowd of locals and tourists at Pike Place.” Wes scratched his cheek. “I need to go across the hall to break the news and could use some backup.”

Dalton glanced towards Buffy and Spike’s apartment. “I don’t think he’d kill the messenger.”

“She told me she was going.” Wes’ chest constricted. “I knew the bastard has been tailing her and when she and Willow said they were going to the market to get snacks…all I did was ask for pears.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Wes shook his head. He could have at least gone with her instead of ordering lunch.

“Look, let me throw some clothes on. Do you have your car here?”

“Yeah, Lorne wants me to bring both of you to the bar.”

“Good. I have a couple of blankets Spike and I can toss over ourselves. I’ll be right back.” Dalton closed the door and there were a few scuffling noises behind it. Wes crossed his arms. His potential was missing, on his watch. The dead eyes of his last charge stared accusingly back at him. Wes sucked in a breath. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

Dalton, a couple of plain quilts draped over his arm, stepped out of his apartment and locked his door. In silence, the two men crossed the hall. Wes raised a fist and timidly knocked.

“Did you forget your key, kitten?” Spike called. He pulled the door open and the happy smile on his face fled.

Wes cleared his throat.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Spike said, his eyes darting back and forth between Wes and Dalton.

“Mr. Trick took Buffy,” Wes said.

Spike blinked and his forehead creased. “What?”

“About half an hour ago, in front of a crowd. Lorne wants me to bring you back to The Sun Thief so we can plan.”

Spike looked confused briefly, but then his face smoothed out. “My girls are…gone?”

“We’ll get them back.” Even to his own ears, Wes’ words didn’t sound very convincing.

Spike’s eyes swirled yellow and his fangs and ridges erupted. “My girls are gone?” His fist plowed into the wall, leaving a gaping hole. Wes stepped back hastily.

Dalton didn’t flinch. “And we’re going to the bar to make a plan,” he said, voice calm.

The long, low plaintive sound that rose out of Spike’s chest froze Wes’ blood. It was an inhuman sound of loss, a demon howling for its other half. Abruptly, the noise cut off and Spike spun to grab his duster from its peg before he slammed the door shut. “Let’s go,” he bit out.

Wes jogged to his car and met the two vampires in the building’s underground parking lot. Traffic was snarled and he had to creep along at a snail’s pace back to The Sun Thief. The midday sun beat down on the car and Wes could feel Spike’s temper fraying in the heat. His old sedan’s air conditioner couldn’t keep up.

The front of the bar was in shadows and Wes parked illegally, not caring about tickets. Shoulders set, Spike stormed into the bar. Wes trailed behind him while Dalton timidly brought up the rear. Lorne had closed the bar for the day, so the inside was empty of patrons. Willow, wrapped in a blanket with a dark bruise blossoming on her cheek, was sitting at a table giving a statement to a police officer.

Spike snorted with disgust. “What does he think he’s going to sodding do? Write the git a ticket?”

Wes stood beside Spike and put a hand on his shoulder. “Lorne thought it wouldn’t hurt to have the police looking for her too. The bloke talking to Willow is Officer Knight, who helped Buffy when she first knew she was being followed.” Spike relaxed a fraction. “Might want to hide the fangs,” Wes murmured. “He’ll probably need to talk to you.”

Spike shook off his demon. “We need to get her back, Wes, not play games with the buggering police department.”

“I know, but it’s a start. Come have a drink, it’ll steady your nerves.” Wes needed one at any rate. Spike followed him to the bar but stood staring at its scarred surface instead of asking for anything. Tara was behind the bar, twisting her hands together. “Jack and coke,” Wes ordered. He glanced at Anya, who was perched on a stool. “Did you call Xander?” he asked her.

Anya nodded. “He’ll keep an eye out at the apartments. He sounded pretty shaken.” Anya didn’t look too good herself. She raised her eyes to Wes’ face. “If I still had my power center…one wish and Mr. Trick could be wearing his insides on his outside.”

Spike growled. “The bitch who crushed it is dead.”

“Thank you,” Anya said. She spread her fingers out on top of the bar. “I don’t think I said that before. I’m okay, now, with what I am…but thank you.”

Wes accepted his drink from Tara. He felt decidedly odd, hearing one demon-even if she was an ex-demon-thanking another for killing a Slayer. It made his head spin even more to realize that he felt sympathy for Anya and that he at least partly understood how powerless she felt because he was feeling the same way. He rattled the ice in his glass and swallowed half its contents in one gulp.

Tara set two shot glasses in front of Spike and filled them both with tequila. The vampire downed one after the other, then reached over the bar to nab a lemon slice, which he sank his teeth into.

“It’s supposed to be a lime,” Anya said half-heartedly.

“I don’t bloody well need either,” Spike growled, tossing the lemon slice back on the bar. “I just didn’t want to stink too much like booze what with the copper walking over here.”

Wes turned and leaned against the bar.

“Spike?” the officer asked, his hands clutching the pad of paper and pen in his hand.

“Yeah?” Spike grunted.

“Can I have a word with you?” Officer Knight requested.

Spike turned and eyed the policeman. “Here’s as good a place as any.”

The officer quickly ran through what sounded like some very routine questions. Spike answered them all with terse, mostly monosyllabic words. There were a few more questions about anything he might know but Spike just shook his head.

“All right, I think I’m good for now. Rest assured that we are doing all we can to find Buffy and return her to you.” The officer snapped his notebook shut and slipped it into his pocket.

“She’s sodding nine months pregnant, those tykes are coming any minute,” Spike said, his hands closing into fists. Wes hadn’t entirely thought about that, Buffy being held captive and in labor. They had to find her, and soon.

Officer Knight’s face, which had been set in a professionally caring mask, fell. “I know. These lowlifes aren’t going to keep us from finding her. They’ll make a mistake, they may already have, and then…” He trailed off but gave Spike a nod.

Spike sagged against the bar. “Thanks, mate. We’ll let you know if we hear anything.”

Everyone was quiet as the officer let himself out. After he was gone, Lorne and Clem appeared from the back. Willow, her eyes haunted, went to lean against her girlfriend.

Lorne, sighing, sat on a barstool.

“What do we do?” Tara asked, and every everyone’s gaze went to Lorne.

“You’re not going to like this,” Lorne said. “But I think we should wait. Taking Buffy probably has something to do with the Gem of Amara. If it was retaliation for the Set Box, Trick would have just killed her.”

Spike’s growl made the hairs stand up on the back of Wes’ neck.

“Probably he wants Spike and is letting us stew before contacting us. If we go in guns blazing, he might just kill her in punishment.” Lorne leaned heavily against the bar.

“Then I go to him,” Spike said.

“And then he has you and Buffy,” Lorne countered. “We don’t have a way to contact him. We’re going to have to wait. And then, Spike, if you want to trade your life for hers…”

No one said anything.

“Was that a fucking question?” Spike bit out after a moment.

Wes finished the end of his drink. Waiting didn’t sit well with him either, not while who-the-hell-knew what was happening to Buffy. Nothing was going to be okay until she was back home. “Do you know where the Gem is?” Wes asked Spike.

The vampire sighed. “No bloody clue. I asked Buffy to hide it because I figured it’d be me the wanker would take when he realized he’d been had. If I didn’t know, I couldn’t tell him…but there’s not been a whole lot for me to do all day lately, so I’ve been searching the apartment for the damned thing, thinking to surprise her, but I don’t think it’s there. No idea where she’s stashed it. Maybe here?”

Lorne pursed his lips. “Tara, can you come up with a way to see if Buffy’s hidden the ring somewhere in the bar?”

Tara’s eyes went wide and she gulped. “I’m pretty sure. Sweetie?” She ran a hand through Willow’s hair. “Do you think you can help?”

Willow blank expression gradually receded. “Um, yeah. That’d be good.”

The two witches headed to a booth and Wes went behind the counter to pour himself a refill. He set a glass of top-shelf scotch in front of Spike. The vampire barely inclined his head in acknowledgment, but he did down the amber liquid.

The search for the ring occupied most of the afternoon, but in the end was fruitless. The Gem wasn’t in The Sun Thief.

Spike had yelled at the girls a couple of times, only to apologize moments later. The guy was a wreck. He needed to be doing something more than participating in a scavenger hunt. Heck, Wes needed to be doing something more, but Lorne was adamant they wait. The minutes trickled past like years.

At last, Wes couldn’t take it anymore. The tension in the place was sky high and Spike had taken to pacing, wearing his demon features, and running his claws through his hair. He was muttering to himself and occasionally laughing hysterically. Once, he’d openly wept.

Wes stood from the table he’d been sitting at and reading a treatise on the Gem. Not that knowing anything more about it would help, but it had been something to do. “Spike, I’m taking you back to your apartment so you can get some dinner in you.” There was plenty of blood at The Sun Thief, but no one mentioned that. They seemed relieved that the distraught vamp would be somewhere else for a while. “The instant you hear anything, you call,” Wes added, catching Lorne’s eye. Wes grabbed Spike by the shoulder and steered the vampire towards the exit.

The trip back to the apartment went quickly, the rush hour traffic having already migrated to the highways. Wes parked in the underground lot and followed Spike upstairs. The vampire was silent, his eyes flat. Once inside the apartment, Spike collapsed onto the futon, which was made up as a bed. He buried his face against the mattress and took several deep breaths. Wes frowned. It took him a minute to realize Spike was scenting Buffy. His heart broke for the poor fellow.

****

Spike could hardly focus. Everything inside him was screaming.

He’d been too late to save Drusilla. She’d died without him, dissolving into dust so that he didn’t even have a body to mourn. Nothing to lay to rest.

He pressed his face harder against the bed, trying to soothe his raging demon with Buffy’s scent, but it knew better.

Buffy was gone, gone, gone.

His mind tripped over itself. Buffy would leave a corpse. Would there be three coffins? Two of them tiny? Or would they lay Dawn and Anne to rest with their mother? Cradled for all eternity in her arms? Pain lashed through him and he found himself shaking, curled up on the floor with his back against the wall.

The microwave dinged and the Watcher took a cup out. Blood, from the smell of it. Wes crossed the room and held the cup out. “You need to eat,” the Watcher said.

Spike shook his head. How could he eat when…

“You need to be able to stay on your feet when we go after her,” Wes all but growled. “I’m not waiting around for whatever lunatic thing Trick wants to do. I’m going to find her, there’s someone I owe it to.”

Spike slowly pushed himself up the wall until he was standing. He accepted the cup and gulped the blood down, not tasting it. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“First, I’m going to find her. Do you have a city map?”

Spike dropped the cup in his hands to the floor and rummaged in the kitchen junk drawer, pulling out a map of Seattle and the surrounding area. He handed it to Wes, who spread it out on the table before unloading various spell components from his pockets.

“Nicking things now, Watcher?” Spike asked.

“Pocketed from the back when we were looking for the ring,” Wes said, sounding distracted. “Bring me a hair from the drain or her brush, would you?”

In the bathroom, Spike found only a few broken hairs in her brush, but the drain in the shower was clogged with them. He was supposed to be in charge of cleaning it out, but since Buffy couldn’t really see the drain when she was bathing at the moment, he’d let it slide. Silently, he promised to clean it out every day for the rest of sodding forever if she was just returned to him without a scratch. Plucking one damp hair from among the many, he gave it to Wes.

Some incense waving, candle lighting, and a few minutes of chanting later, a bright spot appeared on the map. It didn’t move. “There she is,” Wes whispered. Spike put the tip of a claw through the paper to mark the spot and Wes let the magic dissipate.

“They’re holding her at the bloody King Dome?” Spike asked, confused. Strange place for Mr. Trick to have a hideout. It couldn’t be too comfortable, he’d have expected to find the tosser holed up in the penthouse of some hotel.

Wes rubbed a temple. “It is indeed strange. The whole place is being rigged for demolition, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded.

“Do you have weapons?”

Spike glared at the Watcher. “What do you bloody think?”

“Right. Might we collect them and head towards the stadium’s environs? The sooner she is safe…”

“They’re in the boot of my car.”

Spike tried to form a plan as the Watcher and he transferred hand axes and crossbows from the DeSoto to Wes’ sedan–the plain car was far less likely to draw attention–but he couldn’t come up with much, nothing except wall-to-wall blood and destruction. Anyone standing between Spike and Buffy was dead.

Wes was considering a short sword when Spike figured he better let the gent know in case the white hat wanted out.

“Watcher,” Spike growled, grabbing Wes’ wrist. The man sputtered in surprise and dropped the sword. Spike let his demon come forward. “I’ve been playing nice for my girls. Been eating the shite pig’s blood, been trying to think about what she’d want me to do before I make a move…but I’m not some sodding tame lap-dog. I will kill everything and everyone between me and Buffy, no matter if they’re human or not. I don’t care if she puts me out on my arse afterwards, so long as she’s safe and sound when she does it.”

“Of course,” Wes breathed.

Spike locked gazes with the Watcher. “If Mr. Trick wants me to fucking dismember you bit by bit for his amusement, I would not hesitate to do so with a smile on my face if it meant Buffy walks out unscathed. Do you understand?”

To Spike’s surprise, the Watcher didn’t shy away. Wes’ eyes hardened. “If that’s what it took, I’d lay down willingly with a smile on my own damned face.”

Spike dropped Wes’s wrist and bent to pick up the fallen sword. He put it in the man’s hands. “Good to have you on board, mate.”

****

Buffy had awoken in the back of an SUV, laying down on the rear seat and held fast by two burly demons in dark suits. They could almost pass for human if they kept their mouths closed and didn’t show off their rows of triangular teeth. She’d panicked and tried to wrench herself free, but they’d been too strong and she’d collapsed against the leather seat, panting.

Her next thought had been for her daughters. What the hell had they knocked her out with? Would it hurt the girls? But both Dawn and Anne were kicking, maybe responding to her own panic, and it reassured Buffy that everything was okay. The demon holding her arms had slipped a hood over her head and Buffy had been clueless about where they were taking her.

After what had felt like forever, the SUV had stopped and her hood had been removed. They were in a concrete parking structure somewhere. She was hustled out of the van and stood, shivering, amid the forest of dark pillars that seemed to go on forever.

One of the demons roughly grabbed her upper arm and pulled her at a fast clip through the parking structure to an unmarked door. The other side of the door was a long corridor, painted white, that curved at either end. There were bundles of something duct-taped to the wall at regular intervals with wires running between them. She had no idea what they were.

Without a word, the demons had led her to a door, opened it, and shoved her into a tiny room. There were no windows, just a bare overhead bulb, a cot with a metal frame and bare mattress, and a bucket in one corner with a partial roll of toilet paper next to it.

Buffy had sat, then lain down, on the cot. She’d been unable to sleep and was now staring at the cinderblocks of the far wall. The wall was eight of them across and twelve high. Like the corridor, they were painted white.

She felt too stunned to be anything but numb.

Hopefully, Willow was alright and had gotten away from the guy trying to grab her, and double hopefully Spike wasn’t doing anything stupid. Fat chance on that last one. He was probably a mess. She wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him and tell him it’d be okay.

The hours dragged on. Since there was no way to tell time it was like being in a very boring casino.

Her only comfort was that she knew people would be trying to find her as soon as they knew she was gone. Maybe already if Willow had been able to tell them she’d been kidnapped.

Eventually, her bladder started screaming. She eyed the five-gallon bucket. Really?

When she ran out of options besides peeing down her leg, she awkwardly managed to go in the plastic bucket. No mean feat of balance with her baby bump. She giggled as she wiped herself because she so should tell Wes he needed to add going to the bathroom in uncomfortable ways to his training list.

If she ever saw him again.

If she ever saw Spike again. Suddenly she wanted the comfort of his arms and chest more than anything. Her numbness bled away and tears came. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she sobbed until she ran out of steam. Which didn’t solve anything and made her eyes itchy.

More time ticked by. She had to pee again. Which worried her. It’d been forever since she’d had anything to eat or drink.

She was tired, scared, and hungry. Her stomach growled. Make that very hungry.

Buffy tried to sleep again, but couldn’t relax enough. Even her daughters were restless. Anne kept getting hiccups.

The scratch of the lock turning made her bolt to her feet. She backed up as far from the door as possible in the narrow space. It swung outwards and Mr. Trick, smiling broadly, sauntered through into the cramped room. He clapped his hands together.

“How is my favorite little captive doing this fine evening?”


	33. Granola Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mr. Trick makes some graphic threats against Buffy, Dawn, and Anne during this chapter. While this story carries a violence warning, I though that readers would like to know there is specific language that involves violence (not of a sexual nature) against very young children. If this is uncomfortable for any reason for you to read, I have written a short summery of the chapter and put it in the end notes so that you will be able to continue following the narrative.

Blood is on the table

                -Temple of the Dog, “Hunger Strike”

 

****

The cinderblock wall was cold and rough against her back. Buffy flattened her sweaty palms against it, unable to get far enough away from the monster in front of her.

Mr. Trick was as well dressed as the last time she’d seen him. His dark gray suit was immaculate and his blood-red silk tie looked expensive, as did the diamond tie-pin holding it straight. His teeth gleamed in the light from the room’s one bulb.

With a flick of his wrist, he closed the door and leaned against it in a casual pose, though his eyes never left her.

“W-w-what do you want?” she stammered.

“I think you know.” His voice was flat and cold.

Buffy shook her head. How long would she live if she handed over the ring? She had to fight the urge to reach up and touch where it rested against the inner curve of one breast. Why hadn’t she been searched?

Oh, ugh. She’d been knocked out at first. One of those ugly, shark-toothed demons must have done it. She shuddered at the thought of those beefy hands on her…only he must not have copped a generous feel of her boobs because the ring was still there. Small favors.

“Tell me where the Gem is.” Mr. Trick crossed his arms, but she could see that his jaw was clenched.

“I can’t, there isn’t a Gem.”

He sighed, then waved a hand. “You can stop trying to disappear into the wall. I’m not going to kill you right this minute. I have bigger plans for you. Have a seat.”

Slowly, Buffy peeled herself off the wall and sank to sit on the thin mattress of the cot. “The Gem’s a fairytale.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn’t seem very surprised. “I remember that bolt going right into your boyfriend’s heart and him being none the dustier.”

“It was a spell, mimicked most of the effects of the Gem. We paid a witch a stupid amount for it…and then Spike killed her right after she cast the spell and she was all weak and stuff, so she wouldn’t be able to share it.” Buffy hoped she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Mr. Trick pinched the bridge of his nose. “What was the spell tied to?”

“The chain Spike wore around his neck, but my guess is the magic’s all gone now anyway. It was tied to him, and to him being a vamp, so no blood…no magic.” She tried to look annoyed. “Thanks for that, by the way. Do you know how hard it was to find a witch that would work with a vampire?”

“Some idea,” Mr. Trick said dryly. “You two did have me going for a bit. I tried everything to get one of those cheap pieces of junk to work. I should have known better.”

Buffy snorted. “Whatever. It gave us time to make sure you didn’t release the crap that was in the Set Box.”

The grin that split Mr. Trick’s face made her blood run cold.

“What an adorable child you are!” His eyes flashed gold for a moment. “I had no intention of doing anything with evil that old and ugly. Hell on Earth would ruin my plans.”

Buffy’s brows drew together. “What?”

He shrugged. “Your band of merry do-gooders never even stopped to think that I was keeping you busy and off my tail, with the bonus that you did save the planet. Thanks for that, I would have missed my silk sheets.”

“But if you weren’t…there was that note, on Spike’s car.”

Mr. Trick snorted. “From ‘A Friend’? I had someone put that there. Worked like a charm.”

Buffy’s mind was whirling. What was going on? He’d been playing them for months? “Then what’s all this about?”

“Money. What else?”

“Do I even want to know?” She wrapped her arms around her belly. Money. Of course. Mr. Trick had to get the dough for his pretty suit from somewhere.

Another chuckle. “Probably not, but I’m going to show you anyways. I’m rather proud, if I do say so myself. I’m going to be raking in millions. Which is kind of necessary when living in Seattle. Do you have any idea how inflated the real estate market here is?”

She glared at him. That question didn’t seem to need an answer. Dawn and Anne were awake, kicking and pushing. Dawn had her butt pressing out, making Buffy’s abdomen an odd shape. It made her miss Spike, his voice and hands always soothed the girls down. Maybe the twins were missing their dad as much as she was. Buffy wondered what her boyfriend and friends were doing. Were they coming for her? Was rescue close?

Mr. Trick’s eyes were fastened on her baby bump. “How can you walk around like that?”

“Is that a real question?” Buffy’s patience was running out.

“It’s just so…disgusting. Why didn’t you abort them as soon as you knew they were there? Why go through all of this? Obviously, their father dumped you, so why have his brats?”

Buffy stared at the vampire. “What?”

“I’m starting to think you’re mentally deficient. Why didn’t you have an abortion?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t, but I’m curious why anyone would want little parasites wiggling around inside them.” He pursed his lips and continued to stare at her belly.

She wasn’t sure he deserved any kind of an answer, but keeping him talking at least meant she was still alive. “In the end, it was my choice. I could have had an abortion. I knew I was pregnant soon enough. Part of me wanted to. I was alone, no job, no idea how I was going to make it…and maybe in some other universe, I did. I wouldn’t be mad at myself if I had.” This was all very difficult to explain. “But…but…when I was lying in a shelter bed, not able to sleep…it didn’t fit with who I saw myself as. I was a mom. And that was my choice. I was going to have my baby.” She petted her stomach. “Not that I really had any idea what I was getting myself into. Didn’t know it was twins. Didn’t know I was going to end up with a vampire boyfriend or working at a demon bar. Didn’t know some lunatic was going to kidnap me.”

“Flatterer.” He tapped his fingers against his arms. “I guess I really didn’t care about all that. It’s just lucky for me that you wanted to keep the snot-nosed bastards. It doesn’t matter why.”

Buffy thought her heart might stop. He wanted something with her babies?

“I am curious, though, does William the Bloody still…fuck you? Like that?”

“None of your business,” she growled. Mr. Trick did not get to judge what she and Spike did together.

Mr. Trick shook his head with a look of disgust on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes. He always was an odd duck. Did he tell you about the orphanage he and Drusilla ransacked…I think in the 50s or 60s. I can’t remember now. He used to brag about it, all those little fish in a barrel.”

Buffy had no idea if Mr. Trick was telling the truth, but she knew he very well could be. She took a shaky breath and tried to think about something besides her boyfriend murdering children. “I know his history.”

“I’m sure he’s told you he’s all reformed now.”

Buffy wanted to snap that Spike was different, but she bit her lip. There was no point to arguing. Mr. Trick was just trying to upset her. He was probably getting off on it. “Look,” she finally said, her voice as even as she could make it. “Is there a point to all this? If you’re not going to kill me this instant, do I get dinner? Or are you just going to be petty and run through a list of all my boyfriend’s sins until you find the one that’ll make me cry?”

“Oh, you’re a hoot. I can almost see what William does in you. That’s almost. He always did like clinging to some woman’s apron strings. Though I think in the end you’ll be disappointed. Do you really believe he’s going to want to watch you get old and wrinkled?”

Buffy told herself they were just words. Mr. Trick was hurling them at her to make her miserable. Spike loved her.

“He might have some kink for pregnant chicks, but I doubt he’ll care so much when those perky breasts of yours are sagging. No, if I had to guess, he’s playing a long con. He probably really is in love with you, but, in case you haven’t realized it yet, vampires are selfish. He’s not going to want to share you, not even with those two little lumps of flesh you’re carrying around. My guess…he’ll wait for you to pop those babies out, kill them, then turn you. And when you rise–“ A smile lifted the corner or Mr. Trick’s mouth. “You wouldn’t even care. Hell, he might turn you first and keep them alive just long enough to be your first meal. How’d you like that, Mommy?”

Buffy couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her.

“Or maybe one each? William does like his veal.”

“Stop it,” Buffy said. She looked away from Mr. Trick’s sly grin and closed her eyes.

“If you’re going to play whore to a vampire, you shouldn’t be surprised when you wake up dead. Now, it’s a lovely chat we’ve been having, but I need to go check on a few things, make sure they’re all ready, and then I’m going to let you see what I have in store for you.” He sounded gleeful. “And don’t worry your pretty little head about what I said about your boyfriend. I was kidding. You’re not going live long enough for William to have a chance to turn you.”

Buffy kept her eyes closed until the door to the hallway had opened and closed and the lock clicked.

Haltingly, she lay down on her side and curled up around her baby bump. She wanted to cry, or scream, or…she didn’t even know what.

Mr. Trick had gotten under her skin. There was so much she’d never talked to Spike about. What if he was planning to make her a vampire so she would be able to stay with him? Buffy scratched her nails over the fabric of the cot’s mattress.

He’d never brought it up at all. Maybe he was enjoying being with her right now, but didn’t see her as someone he’d want to spend decades with. Not that she wanted to be a vampire. Like she had just known that she was a mom, Buffy was sure she wasn’t meant to be one of the undead. She would have to watch her children grow old and die, and she wasn’t built for that.

But Spike…

The future would have to take care of itself if she lived past the next few days. Buffy hated Mr. Trick for making her think like this, for making her imagine Spike with his fangs ripping into her daughters. He wouldn’t. He loved them. Buffy clung to that knowledge like a life preserver. She knew Spike. Whatever he’d done before, whoever he’d been, he wasn’t that person now. Even his demon seemed to love and care for her and her daughters. She wasn’t imagining it. Buffy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Mr. Trick’s words had shaken her, but they hadn’t broken her and they hadn’t broken her love and trust in her boyfriend.

She relaxed a fraction.

“Love you,” she said out loud, comforted by the words, even if there couldn’t be a reply. Spike would come for her, and boy, he was going to be pissed.

She wondered about her friends. Was Willow okay? Had she gotten away from her attacker? Buffy knew everyone would be worried about her. Wes would blame himself, and so would Lorne. Her boss would have warned her if he’d seen this coming, but he was more an empath than a magic eight ball. That wouldn’t stop him from feeling terrible, however.

The door unlocking again had her scrambling to sit up. Buffy was expecting Mr. Trick to return, so when the emo kid who’d followed her entered the room, she squeaked and jumped to her feet, bringing up her fists while she wished for a weapon.

The kid’s face paled and he held up his hands, one of which held a bottle of water and the other a banana. “Sorry!” he yelped, his voice higher pitched than she’d been expecting. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Like you could!” she spat. Okay, he might be able to. She eyed the open door behind him, but even if she knocked the kid out of the way what was she going to do? She couldn’t run far or fast and if the next person she ran into was one of the shark-toothed demons, she’d really be in trouble. Very pregnant ladies couldn’t just make a break for it.

“Mr. Trick told me to bring you food,” emo kid said. “He doesn’t want you to get sick or anything before the big day. And he thought it’d be, I don’t know, funny, if I brought it to you.” The kid’s shoulders slumped. “I’m super sorry, about, like, the other day.” He held the food out towards Buffy.

After a second she scooted forward far enough to grab it out of his hands. Throwing the water bottle on the bed, she tore into the banana, suddenly ravenous. She wanted to ask what he meant by ‘big day’, but was too hungry to pause long enough to breathe, let alone to ask questions.

The kid didn’t leave, but put the hood of his jacket over his lank hair and messed with the zipper. His eyes went to the floor. “I live with my grandma. It’s in an okay place, and…” He moved the zipper up and down faster. “Mr. Trick said he’d put her out on the street if I don’t do what he says. So I have to. I’m sorry. I don’t like…I’m not really mean. Okay?”

Buffy nodded once.

The kid reached into his pocket and drew out a couple of granola bars. “I brought these to eat tonight, but you can have them.” He dropped them on the bed and took the now-empty banana peel from her. “My gran would be so mad. On the bus she always makes me stand up if a pregnant woman gets on. I’m sorry.” He brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

Buffy looked at the open door again. “Could you help me–“

“No!” the kid barked. “My gran…I’m sorry,” he said again and fled, locking the door behind him. She wasn’t surprised. Mr. Trick could destroy him or his loved ones in a blink of an eye.

Buffy sat on the side of the bed with a huff. Great. Now she felt sympathy for her stalker. He was probably a lot younger than she’d first thought. Maybe fifteen? She wondered if he even got paid.

“You’re wondering if he gets paid to terrorize people,” she said to the empty room,  then sighed. He was as much a victim as she was.

Buffy was feeling a little better after the banana. She unsealed the water bottle and took a long drink. It wasn’t cold, but it was delicious. The granola bars were the kind you bought individually, so they were thick and had big pieces of chocolate. She opened one and the scent was amazing. The chocolate smelled divine. The bar tasted even better. She wolfed the first one down and folded the wrapper and put it in her pocket. She stared at the second. Her hunger was a little more under control, and finally she put the bar in her pocket unopened. Who knew when she’d get something else to eat or drink? She saved the second half of the bottle of water for the same reason.

It was hard to resist pacing, but she couldn’t afford to exhaust herself, so she sat on the cot again, scooting back until she was leaning against the wall. She’d just started to doze off when Mr. Trick returned. She glared as he paraded back into the room with a smug look on his face.

“I hope you enjoyed dining with us, but now it’s time for the show.” He swept his arm towards the door.

“And they say romance is dead.” Awkwardly, she managed to get back to her feet. Out in the hallway she was flanked by the same two shark-toothed guards that she’d seen before, and Mr. Trick took the lead through a warren of hallways. Eventually, they came to a set of stairs. She climbed it and exited onto a flat concrete platform with a metal railing. Buffy gaped. The vast, empty space of what had to be the Kingdome was spread out around her. She recognized it from Seahawk’s games her father had taken her to when she was little. With no other people, the endless rows of seats made her feel very small.

They were standing in the first tier of seating. Overhead, some of the massive lights were on, highlighting the arena floor. The upper reaches of seats were hidden in darkness. The place smelled musty and somewhere water was dripping.

Mr. Trick rubbed his hands together. “Look, look, look!” He gestured towards to arena. There were haphazard piles of junk scattered everywhere, with what looked like patches of bare dirt in between. 

“I don’t get it,” she said, wrinkling her nose. A video camera on a raised platform caught her eye. “Are you filming a Mad Max movie?”

Mr. Trick made an exasperated noise. “You lack imagination.” He straightened up. “This is one of several venues around Seattle, created specifically to provide live, pay-per-view entertainment for demons. Doom TV.” He sounded like he was trying to sell her something. “Death, destruction, and mayhem. All for a price, of course.”

“That’s what you were doing with the video equipment. Spike thought you were making porn.”

Mr. Trick rolled his eyes. “That channel isn’t launching until next year.”

She looked back at the arena floor. “So where do I fit in?”

“Excellent question!” He put a hand on her shoulder, gripping too hard for her to pull away. “Tomorrow night is our first broadcast, and we need to start things off with a bang. There’s a few demon versus demon fights, which I hope will generate some betting action. As time goes on, that, of course, will become an important revenue stream. But back to tomorrow. Initially, I was just going to throw a group of humans in the arena with a vamp or two. A Christians to the lions sort of thing. Lots of blood, lots of gore. I could bill it as something special to see before the Kingdome is imploded, but I realized, for this first broadcast, I needed something better, something more lurid.”

Buffy’s stomach dropped. She gripped the rail in front of her with both hands.

“I mean, one day I’ll get my hands on a real Slayer and that’ll truly be something, but for now a pregnant potential going up against an insane vampire–“ Mr. Trick grinned. “I’ve already made close to a quarter million dollars in foreign pre-orders. People want to watch you die!”

Her hands tightened on the railing.

“And quite a few people don’t pre-order. I expect that figure to double. And domestic sales! I couldn’t let the cat out of the local bag until I’d secured you, but now that you’re here, my sales machine is going into high gear. When I checked a few minutes ago things were looking very promising indeed. Of course, with you, there’s no betting. We all know you’re going to be killed quickly. I’d like to think you’ll put up a fight.” He eyed her belly. “Only we both know that’s not likely now, is it? But I have to give people their money’s worth, and while Kralik is quite insane, I have managed to get something through his rotting mind.”

Buffy trembled. She could hardly think. Where was Spike?

Mr. Trick’s fingers clenched painfully on her shoulder. “He knows he has to rip those ripe little bundles of joy out of your belly first. He won’t have a knife, he’ll have to make do with whatever he can find down there. He’ll eat them, or tear them apart, and we’ll make sure to have a camera on your face the entire time so everyone can see your horror. God, I’m going to be able to do a DVD cut and people are going to not be able to shove money fast enough at me. And he’ll kill you, too. Nice and slow, or as slowly as he can. You might be bleeding a lot from the whole babies being ripped out thing.”

He let go of her, but she couldn’t move. “No,” she breathed. It wasn’t going to end like this for her girls. Someone would rescue her, or she’d escape somehow, or maybe it was all a big joke…

Fear was turning her blood to ice.

Mr. Trick was almost vibrating with glee. “I’m going to make so much money! What do you think?”

Buffy, barely able to breathe, turned away from the arena floor to fix Mr. Trick with a glare. Her voice shook, but she held tight to the belief that her daughters were not meant to die in order to line this monster’s pockets. “I promise: when you dust, it’s going to hurt.”

He laughed so hard he had to grab onto the rail to stay upright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary:
> 
> Mr. Trick asks a few questions about the Gem, but isn't too worried when Buffy lies and says that one of Spike's chains was spelled to act like the Gem. Buffy still has the ring tucked in her bra, apparently she wasn't thoroughly searched as no one sees her as much of a threat. He reveals that he had bigger plans in the works, and that (to him) the Set Box was a distraction for her, Spike, Lorne and the rest (but thanks for saving the world) while Mr. Trick set something up. Mr. Trick needles Buffy about Spike being her boyfriend and then goes to check some details. A short while later the emo kid that stalked her comes in to give her a dinner of water and a banana. It turns out he's a victim of Mr. Trick to and his working for Mr. Trick to protect his grandmother. He also gives Buffy a few granola bars he'd brought with him to be his own dinner. Buffy's left feeling like she doesn't know which way is up.
> 
> Mr. Trick returns and leads her to a spot over looking the arena floor of the Kingdome. It turns out he's been setting up to live broadcast the death of Buffy and her daughters at the hands of Kralic. Buffy tries to stay strong and says she's going to dust him, which makes Mr. Trick laugh his rear off. After all, he's the one holding all the cards...


	34. Cheetos

 

I'm so excited, I can't wait to meet you there

                -Nirvana, “Lithium”

****

The bulk of the Kingdome was black against the horizon. Wes tried to tamp down the rising fear and excitement that was churning in his gut. Spike squealed the sedan to a stop at the bottom of a blocked off entrance ramp to the stadium’s parking structure. Getting out, Spike’s head swiveled back and forth as he scanned the area. “I can’t sense anyone out here,” Spike said, slamming the car’s door closed after pulling the latch to open the boot.

Wes got out, impressed that his hands shook only a little as he locked his door and closed it. He’d had weapons training and he fought the urge to giggle as he imagined telling his stern instructors that he would one day use the knowledge to help a vampire. Wes’ life had certainly not turned out how he’d expected.

In silence, he and Spike armed themselves. Spike attached a hand ax to his belt and dropped several knives into his duster’s pockets. Unsheathing a short sword, he went through a serious of practice swings that let Wes know that Spike was no amateur. For himself, Wes chose a crossbow, slinging a quiver of extra bolts over his shoulder. As a backup, he strapped a large bowie knife to his thigh. The sound of the boot’s lid closing was loud and echoed back from the stadium’s concrete side. Wes put both hands on the car.

“I should have called Fred,” he whispered. “I think I love her.”

“You’ll tell her that when this is over.”

Wes hoped so. He cursed under his breath and looked over at Spike, who closed his eyes and seemed to fight with himself briefly before his face shifted to that of the demon.

Wes wasn’t surprised. “Ready for a little violence?”

Spike shrugged. “Ready to get my bloody girl back.” He tilted his head. “Still don’t believe it, do you?”

“Believe what?” Wes asked, confused.

Spike ran a hand over his face. “All of me loves her. I don’t care what the wankers on your Council want to make noise about. I’m not keeping myself in check somehow, restraining myself from tearing her throat out. The instinct is to protect. To cherish.” His voice broke. “I want to be sodding curled up in bed with her and the ache of not having her beside me…” He trailed off and turned away from Wes. “She is my heart.”

Wes stood silent for a minute, struggling to put his feelings into words. “You’re wrong,” he finally said. Spike hunched his shoulders. “I do believe that as both man and demon, you love her and her daughters. Shall we go and get them back?”

Spike looked over his shoulder at Wes. “Thank you. One last chance to stay out of this. I should warn you that I will kill whoever is in my way of getting to her. And if they’re human, I might feed, it’ll let me heal and help me keep fighting. Don’t give a fuck if you approve.”

“When have you ever?”

Spike grinned. He hopped over the wooden sawhorses blocking the ramp and started jogging up into the darkness. Wes followed, much less gracefully.

“Hurry up, Sancho,” Spike called back as Wes tried to keep up.

“Not all of us are unnatural creatures of the night,” Wes grumbled.

“And some of us need to spend more time on a treadmill and less time at a bar.”

“You do realize I have a choice where I aim this bow?” Damn. Wes was panting. He did need to work out more.

“Save it for the next time you catch me shagging your potential.” Spike chuckled.

“You knew I was there?”

“Unnatural creature of the night…plus you’re as stealthy as an elephant.”

“You didn’t stop!”

“Why would I?”

Wes was trying to come up with a brilliant retort when the overhead lights snapped on, bathing the area in blinding light. In front of them was a door set into a concrete wall. Spike raised his sword and settled into a fighting stance. A few yards behind him, Wes raised his bow.

The door opened and there were hoots and yells as bodies flooded the area.

Wes aimed his bow and fired, the bolt found its mark in the chest of a vampire and the creature exploded into dust. Wes lowered the bow as he yanked a bolt from his quiver, working to reload as fast as possible. The attackers converged on Spike and he became a blur of motion. Heads were separated from shoulders and limbs from bodies.

Choosing another obviously demonic target, Wes fired again, and the creature fell over with a howl. So far most of Mr. Trick’s minions seemed to be concentrating on Spike. Wes worked on loading another bolt, looking up just in time to see a man with a green mohawk stab a knife into Spike’s chest. Spike didn’t even pause. He reached up, yanked out the knife, and grabbed the mohawk guy in one motion, yanking him in close and sinking his fangs into his neck. The man screamed as he died, Spike using the body as a shield until he dropped the corpse at his feet. Blood was smeared across the vampire’s face and his eyes were maniacal.

Wes fired off one more bolt, taking out another obviously non-human attacker, then set the bow on the ground and pulled out his knife as a demon with scaly skin and a forked tongue advanced on him. It had wicked looking claws tipping each finger and, once close enough, it took a swipe at Wes. He dodged and elbowed the lizardman in the face, sending it stumbling back. The Watcher part of Wes’ brain was busy trying to classify the demon but was pulling a blank. Which infuriated him. They danced around each other, neither landing a blow. Wes drew back his arm, meaning to throw his knife, when the lizardman’s head was jerked around with a loud crack and the dead body was tossed aside.

“C’mon,” Spike growled. “A few more of these wankers and we’ll be inside.”

Wes looked towards the door. A group of Mr. Trick’s minions were knotted there, but there were significantly fewer than there had been. Mr. Trick must not have been planning on a direct assault. He probably hadn’t thought anyone would figure out where Buffy was being held. For the first time, Wes felt real hope. They were going to do this.

Spike’s grin was macabre through the drying blood on his face. Mr. Trick must be shaking in his boots. There was no way, even if Buffy was unharmed, that Spike was going to let the other vampire walk away from this.

Spike, sword at the ready, rushed the remaining gang members. Wes picked up the crossbow and loaded another bolt, took aim, and let it fly.

****

Willow hung up the bar’s phone. “No one picked up.” She’d tried calling Buffy and Spike’s apartment three times and Wes’ twice.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Xander said. He was sitting sideways in a booth, his leg stretched out on the bench. Anya was sitting across from him. “Does anyone else have a bad feeling about this?”

“I think we all do.” Willow plunked herself down on a bar stool. Tara, behind the bar, put a glass of soda on the counter beside Willow’s elbow.

“What do you think happened to them?” Clem asked. He had an open bag of Cheetos in his hand but had yet to take a bite.

“They’ve gone after her.” Loren’s voice was brittle. He was sitting hunched over at a table

Xander picked up an empty glass and tapped it against the booth’s table. “Maybe they just went to grab pizza…and there was a line…and one of the cooks called in and it’s a really slow line…” He slammed the glass down hard on the table. “Why?” he nearly shouted. “Why would they do that? You told them to wait.” Willow felt the same, just in a lower decibel way.

Lorne shrugged and rubbed at his eyes, which were bloodshot. “I don’t know. I didn’t see…I had no idea Mr. Trick would kidnap Buffy.”

Dalton, who’d been leaning against the wall, went to crouch down next to Lorne. “It’s not your fault. You’re not required to know everything.” He stroked his fingers over the back of one of Lorne’s hands.

“It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that, or how many times you say it either, cupcake, I still feel the same.” Lorne looked completely miserable. “I should have known. I should have known that Buffy would be taken and I should have known Spike and Wes would risk their fool necks going after her.”

“You would have had to tie Spike up to stop him,” Anya said. “He was going crazy. He lives to take care of Buffy and her daughters, without them he’s nothing. He’d rather die making a misguided rescue attempt than be without them.” She looked down at where her hands were clasped together. “I really hope he doesn’t die.”

“Me too,” Willow said. “Why did this happen?” Anger slammed into her and she jumped to her feet. “Buffy’s going to be a mom soon and Spike’s trying so hard to be good for her and they saved the world. It’s not fair! They can’t die!”

Tara hustled around the end of the bar and pulled Willow into a hug. “I don’t know why the world is like this, sweetie. It’s never fair. But hope isn’t gone yet. We’ll figure something out. Okay?”

Willow wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and squeezed. Tara was petting her hair when a thunderous banging on the outside door of The Sun Thief made everyone jump. The knocking wasn’t repeated and, after a minute, Dalton and Lorne edged towards the door. Willow let go of Tara and followed. No one made a sound. Dalton pressed his ear against the door, then shook his head.

“If anyone’s out there, they don’t have a heartbeat.”

“Move back, Dalton,” Willow said, raising a hand and readying a bolt of fire.

Lorne unlocked the door, the metallic clicks obnoxiously loud, and swung it open. No one was there. Willow peered out but lowered her palm as the only thing on the sidewalk was a small pile of boxes. There was one for a fourteen-inch TV with a built in VCR, a smaller, unmarked box, and on top was a video tape with: ‘You Gotta See This!’ written on its label.

Willow stared at the pile, bewildered. Lorne’s expression was the same.

“Here, have some,” Clem said as he bustled passed her and deposited his Cheeto bag in her hands. Automatically, Willow reached in and grabbed a few and shoved them in her mouth as Clem scooped up the boxes. “Where do you want this, boss?”

Lorne’s brows drew together and he shrugged.

“It could be bugged,” Tara said from behind Willow. “So not where we usually sit and talk. Maybe down in one of the overnight rooms? No one’s staying right now.”

“Thank you, sugarplum.” Lorne made an attempt at a smile. He resecured the door and led everyone down to one of the rooms, which felt crowded. Willow stood by one wall with Tara beside her. They gripped each other’s hands tightly. Willow still had the bag of Cheetos in her free hand. Xander and Clem unboxed the TV and set it on a dresser before plugging it in. The unmarked box had a black cable that went into one side of a plastic box and came out the other. It hooked up to the back of the TV, but there weren’t any cable TV outlets in the room so they left it dangling.  

Lorne pulled the video tape out of its slip case. There were no other labels or notes. “Anyone think this is not from Mr. Trick?” he asked, holding up the tape.

“What if it’s really bad?” Xander asked in a thin voice. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, Anya perched beside him. “Like he’s killing her…or worse.”

“We’ll just have to see,” Tara said, letting go of Willow's hand but wrapping her arms around Willow instead and settling her chin on Willow’s shoulder.

Heaving a sigh, Lorne put the tape into the TV’s built in VCR. He sat cross-legged on the floor like a kid and Dalton sat beside him. Reaching forward, Lorne pushed the play button.

The screen flickered and came to life. “Hello, hello!” a voice boomed out of the speakers as a shot of a broadly smiling man leaning against a large mixing board filled the screen.

“Mr. Trick,” Lorne said.

Willow scrunched up her nose. “He looks too normally…normal.”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed.  “I was imaging something different. With more leather and human bones as decoration, not some guy that looks like he runs a bank.”

“So good of you to join me!” Mr. Trick’s image was saying. “You will all be happy to know that you are the only people I’ve recorded a personal message for. Right now, copies of this ad are being distributed here in Seattle and in several other major cities around the country. I’m sure, Lorne, that your bar will just be filled with gossip about it tomorrow. Isn’t it exciting?”

He took a step towards the camera. “And since you are my star’s very bestest most special friends, I’ve even given you a gift, the hardware to watch my show, free of charge, and here–“ He held up a paper with a five digit code which Dalton quickly scribbled down on his hand with a pen. “Is a one-time use code that is good for a free showing!” Mr. Trick rubbed his hands together. “This is going to be so much fun!”

Willow was having trouble breathing. “What’s he going to do? What’s going on?” she squeaked.

“I’ll see you soon!” Mr. Trick said, merrily waving at the camera.

The shot of him disappeared and was replaced with loud, pounding music and bright colors. In growing horror, Willow watched as an ad for a live TV event played out. There were several to the-death battles between demons with ridiculous names, along with suggestions about where to bet, and then there was a fanfare and video of a crazed looking vampire throwing himself against the walls of a small room. “Who doesn’t know of Kralik?” the voiceover boomed. “Everyone’s favorite lunatic vampire!”

“Oh god!” Dalton gasped.

“In a one-time only special event, watch as he takes apart a potential Slayer!” A picture of Buffy popped up. It was just her head, a candid shot one of the people trailing her must have taken. She was looking over her shoulder and smiling. “And did we mention she’s pregnant?” The camera pulled back, showing the rest of the photo and Buffy’s rounded stomach. “I don’t think Kralik’s just going to be content with only her blood! And I wouldn’t bother betting on this one, we all know how it’s going to end!” The commercial finished with several screens explaining how to get access to the show, which required payment. The date and time of the broadcast were also listed, two nights away.

The tape went to static. Everyone sat silent. Willow couldn’t even blink.

Xander abruptly stood and strode to the room’s sink. He gripped the edges and threw up into it.

Willow wiggled out of Tara’s embrace and threw the bag of Cheetos on the floor. She stomped on them as tears ran down her cheeks.

“What do we do?” Anya asked, her face pale.

“I don’t know,” Lorne said. He’d pulled his knees up and had his arms around them. “I don’t know,” he repeated, his voice nearly hysterical. Dalton slid his arms around Lorne’s shoulders, trying to soothe him.

Clem was still staring at the TV.

“The first thing we are going to do is figure out where Buffy is being held.” Tara sounded surprisingly calm, though when Willow looked up from the Cheeto mess she’d made, Tara’s expression was one of terror. “Wes would have already done that. Clem, can you make everyone something to eat while Willow and I perform the locator spell? Dalton, can you help Lorne to his office? He should make some calls and verify what Mr. Trick said, see if this really is something being advertised in the demon community. Xander and Anya, can you make sure the rooms down here are ready for guests? We should probably all sleep here tonight.”

Willow took the hand Tara held out to her. “You’re amazing,” Willow said to her girlfriend. Everyone was quickly moving to do as Tara had asked.

“I’m so scared,” Tara whispered. “Lorne didn’t know this was going to happen, and he hasn’t said one thing about events past it. Maybe the future has all changed. I can’t even think about what Buffy must be going through.” She shivered and leaned her shoulder against Willow’s. “I hope Wes and Spike are okay.”

Willow squeezed Tara’s hand. “Me too.”

***

Spike stepped sideways as Wes released another bolt, dusting the last remaining member of Trick’s gang. Spike’s demon crowed in triumph. There were probably a few more idiots to kill inside, including Mr. Trick, who was going to wish for sunlight by the time Spike was done with him.

Buffy couldn’t be far now. Spike could almost feel her in his arms, taste the salt of her skin.

Christ, he was going to shag her into next week. Make her scream his name until she was hoarse.

He rushed the door but was met with a wall of heat that forced him to fall face first to the ground. Scrambling backwards, he jumped back to his feet and stared in shock at the man wielding a flamethrower that was blocking the door. The git’s face was hidden behind a heat shielding mask.

Right, no biggie.

“Wes,” Spike yelled. “Bit of problem that bow of yours might be good for!”

There was no reply. Spike spun, only to find Wes standing there, eyes wide. He was staring out into the parking lot. From every direction, gouts of flame roared to life. Grabbing Wes’ arm, he pulled him towards a corner where one concrete wall met another. The men wielding flamethrowers converged on them.

Spike’s hope fled as he desperately tried to come up with a solution. Wes’ hand gripped his shoulder. “Could you use me as a shield? Get through the line?”

Spike considered it as he watched the pilot flames at the ends of the flamethrower’s barrels dance. “No, mate. Too many, they’d get my back. I’m afraid we’re both looking at our end here.” Spike put his hand over Wes’. “You’ve got brass balls though, thank you.” Looking up into the Watcher’s eyes, Spike tried to smile. “We’ll go down fighting, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wes echoed.

“Oh my, isn’t this touching? Are you two going to kiss? Buffy would be so disappointed.” Mr. Trick walked through the line of flamethrowers, coming to a stop a few feet away from Spike and Wes.

“Just get it over with,” Spike hissed. He brushed off Wes’ hand and tensed, getting ready to try and attack the other vampire, maybe take the berk out before being dusted.

Mr. Trick looked heavenward and took a step back. “None of that, William. I’m just trying to have a civil discussion.”

“What do you want?” Wes asked through clenched teeth.

“An excellent question!” Mr. Trick beamed at Wes.

“Fucking get on with it!” Spike roared.

“Temper, temper, William,” Mr. Trick tutted. “What I want is for both of you to be my prisoners.”

Spike snarled. “I’d rather die!”

“That can be arranged,” Mr. Trick said. “Are you going to scream as you die? Maybe sob your girl’s name? Will your demon shriek for its mate as you go up in flames?”

“Let’s find out, you tosser.” Spike was ready to die. He’d failed. Buffy might already be dead. No afterlife could be more of a hell than knowing he’d not been able to save her.

Mr. Trick grinned and pointed towards the ceiling. “Make sure and scream loudly, Buffy’s going to want to hear your voice.” Spike’s eyes found what Mr. Trick was pointing at. A camera hung from the ceiling. “Full sound and color. I’m going to put a screen in her room and play the video of your demise for her over and over, at least until I have her killed. Do you think she’ll enjoy that? Her lover martyring himself?”

Spike froze. Buffy wouldn’t be able to stand that. It’d break her. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at Wes.

“At least we’d be inside,” Wes said softly. “And still alive.”

Still able to plan. Still able to find a way.

Spike forced his demon to recede and threw his weapons to the ground. Wes dropped his bow, quiver, and knife. They both held their hands up and the men with flamethrowers stepped back as other demons came forward to wrap chains around Spike and Wes, pinning their arms to their sides.

“Oh, this is so great!” Mr. Trick cackled. He stopped Spike as he was led past him and brought his mouth right next to Spike’s ear. “You’re going to cry so prettily as you watch Kralik rip those brats right out of her.”

Spike’s brain went blank and he lunged, his fangs snapping closed less than an inch from Mr. Trick’s nose as the chains tightened and Spike was thrown to the ground.

He glared up into Mr. Trick’s smug face. “Temper, William,” Mr. Trick chided again. “Temper.”


	35. Water

 

There's something here as strong as life

                -Rush, “2112”

****

Buffy stared at the ceiling of her prison. Her stomach growled. Every so often she got something to eat, usually a piece of fruit, though once there’d been a sandwich. A different person brought it to her each time and she’d seen neither the emo kid nor Mr. Trick again. She had been given quite a few bottles of water though, so at least she wasn’t thirsty.

Dawn and Anne were awake and moving. She wondered if they were hungry, too, or if her body gave them enough at the expense of her own. That’d be fine with her, but it wasn’t like she could just will it to happen.

Buffy rubbed her hand over her belly. It was impossible to tell exactly how long she’d been in the room since there wasn’t a clock or window, but it had to have been nearly two days. She’d really hoped to have been rescued by now, but there hadn’t been any sign that anybody had even tried coming after her. As silly as it was, she couldn’t help but feel forgotten. Intellectually, she knew Spike must be frantic with worry and that her friends were most likely, right that second, trying to find her, but part of her still imagined that they all had just collectively shrugged their shoulders and left her to her fate. She knew Spike hadn’t washed his hands of her and found some other woman that he was currently screwing, no matter what her imagination came up with.

Some other woman that probably wasn’t nine months pregnant and the size of a parade float.

With an exasperated noise, aimed at herself, she sat up and stretched, shoving her nonsense fears away. Her back hurt, but no more than usual. Wasn’t there supposed to be a storm coming in? Tara had said something about her possibly going into labor that day and Buffy had really been crossing her fingers, but now she was hoping the opposite. She still had the Braxton-Hicks contractions, but nothing more. She was sure both babies were head down, judging from the frequency she got feet kicking her ribs, and now they were both too big to easily turn.

Buffy dropped her face into her hands. She’d been sleeping a lot but was still so exhausted. So hopeless…

She gasped, her head snapped back, and her vision whited out as something inside her flared and electricity rocketed up her spine.

****

Willow knew this kind of helplessness. She’d felt it before, when her parents had shoved her out her front door and told her never to come back, but it was different when it involved another person.  Tara and she had pinpointed Buffy’s location to the Kingdome, but when they’d driven over there and done another spell to peek inside, it was clear that the place was crawling Mr. Trick’s cronies. They’d found Wes’ sedan, but no sign of either him or Spike.

Reluctantly, they’d returned to the bar, and her and Tara had curled up and at least pretended to sleep while Lorne hunched over his desk in his office and made call after call after call, trying to find some way to rescue Buffy. 

The next morning, Lorne had stood up and, in a voice full of tears, announced that he had no way to save her. That the only plan he could come up with was to keep her from the worst of her suffering. There’d been stunned silence, then angry words and broken glasses and chairs, and finally the acceptance that they weren’t in a movie and there was no way to snap their fingers and make everything better.

Lorne had tracked down a guy who was on the team rigging the Kingdome for demolition. The work was nearly complete, and this person had access to the devices that would activate the wireless detonators.  

Currently, the guy, a peaceful demon sickened by Mr. Trick’s spectacle, was sitting in the cab of a truck within range to detonate the explosives. He had a cell phone and was waiting for further instructions. When it became apparent Kralik was going to win, Xander would call the guy and the place would come tumbling down. There was a chance Spike and Wes were still alive in there, but there was no question what that their choice would be if asked. Buffy always came first for both of them.

There was always a chance Mr. Trick had seriously underestimated Buffy and she’d take down this Kralik vampire. Willow had been praying an awful lot to Isis, Osiris, and whoever else she thought would listen, to help out her friend.

Lorne had kept the bar closed, unable to go on with business as usual. He’d procured a much larger TV that was sitting on the bar, hooked up and ready to go. None of them wanted to watch but there was no way they could do anything else. Plus, they had to tell the guy when to blow the place sky high.

The bar itself was far from empty. Lorne, Dalton, Xander, Anya, Tara, Clem, and Fred, who’d gotten a hold of Lorne when Buffy had missed an appointment and Wes hadn’t picked up his phone. The doctor was sitting at a table, clutching a drink and looking despondent. At another table was a tall man with a ponytail and a tie-dyed shirt. He was a butcher from Enumclaw that Spike and Buffy knew. His daughter, a slight, raven haired girl named Rowena, was sitting beside him. She was a vamp and had gotten wind of Mr. Trick’s show, had told her dad, and he’d called the bar. Tara had answered and invited them down rather than let them have to deal with the mess on their own.

Though who knew if it was helping them to be here. Willow worried the hems of her sleeves. Everyone was full of fear and sadness, the overall atmosphere so somber it felt like a blanket smothering her.

There was a knock at the door.

****

Spike had stopped paying attention to what happened to his body at some point. He turned his focus inward, replaying his favorite moments of the past months with Buffy over and over in his head. Kissing her on a ferry, seeing the girls on the sonogram’s monitor, her face as he made love to her, eating dinner with her in the Space Needle as the city gleamed like a jewel below them, putting his cheek against her belly and feeling Dawn or Anne pressing back…

He was jolted to something resembling consciousness by pain from his leg. His femur was broken and he couldn’t stand or walk, so someone was dragging him, still in chains, down a hallway. There was a jingle beside him and Spike turned his head and cracked a swollen eye open just far enough to see that Wes was being led along as well, his hands chained behind his back.

“What did they do to you?” Wes said. He was relatively unblemished with only a single bruise on one cheek.

“Not enough,” Spike muttered. He found his arms were bound as well, not that he was in any shape to do much besides stay wherever he was put.

They were dragged into a room full of whirring computers and AV equipment and deposited on their knees in front of a large TV. The room was a hive of activity.

Mr. Trick picked his way over, trailed by two men with cameras on their shoulders. He gave instructions to them that they were to focus on Spike’s and Wes’ faces.

“Hello there, gents!” he said gayly, powering on the screen. It showed the Kingdome’s arena, the floor of which was filled with random junk piles and a few burning torches. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

Spike wavered a little, the pain from his broken leg getting to him. “Buffy,” he croaked.

“I was just getting to her.” Mr. Trick turned to the cameras. “For you viewing pleasure, I have the potential’s Watcher–“ he gestured to Wes, “and her lover. And no, folks, you’re not seeing things, the girl is a sicko, because not only is she a potential and pregnant, but she’s been letting William the Bloody, the Slayer of Slayers, slip it to her on the regular.” Mr. Trick laughed loudly and Spike was unable to stop his fangs from descending or a warning growl from leaving his throat. Mr. Trick laughed louder. “Oh, I do hope you boys enjoy the show. Kralik’s going to pop that girl like a grape.”

Spike’s wail of longing, which he was also unable to suppress, made Mr. Trick grin like the Cheshire cat.

****

Buffy was standing, facing the front of the room and trying to stretch out her back, which oddly didn’t hurt anymore. She’d thought she’d been having a stroke earlier, but then the mental light show had stopped. The only difference was that she didn’t feel as flat out exhausted as she had before.

Thank goodness for small favors, though she wished she could talk to Fred and double check that maybe it’d been a stress symptom and not a sign that something was going wrong.

Both of Buffy’s hands were rubbing her lower back when the door opened. Mr. Trick came in with a white dress over his arm. “Time to get ready for your big moment.” He thrust the dress at her.

She just stared at him.

“Take it. Take it.”

She didn’t move.

Trick raised an eyebrow. “Shall I break your boyfriend’s other leg?”

“Spike’s here?” she squeaked, her mind racing.

“He tried to rescue you. It didn’t go so well.” Mr. Trick shrugged. “Now he and your Watcher get to watch your live TV debut. Isn’t that cool? I’m sure you want to look pretty for your lover.”

“Don’t hurt him.”

“Put the dress on.” Mr. Trick’s smile fled and his eyes became cold. Buffy had no doubt he’d drag her in front of Spike and torture him until Mr. Trick got what he wanted. She grabbed the dress and turned her back on him. “Your virtue’s safe with me,” he said. “No worries I’m going to want to be anywhere near your girl parts. I can’t say the same for Kralik, though he’ll probably wait until you’re a corpse. Another exciting extra for the DVD.”

She didn’t respond, just angrily yanked her shirt over her head. She adjusted her bra, briefly hovering her fingers over the Gem of Amara where it was hidden, before kicking off her sneakers and pushing her jeans down. She didn’t want to think about how gross her underwear was. Behind her there was a sound of disgust. Ignoring it, she shook out the dress. It looked like something she might have worn to a dance at her high school. The fabric was soft and she got the impression that the dress was expensive. She pulled it over her head and was surprised to find it fit her as well as it did, baby bump and all.

Mr. Trick’s footfalls were light as he crossed the room and tugged up her zipper. He put a cold hand on the nape of her neck and the stink of his cologne made her eyes water. “There you go. That white color is going to show off the blood so well. Do you think your vampire pet will get a hard-on when he sees you in it? You look like you’re already dead.” She remained silent and, with a chuckle, Mr. Trick left, locking the door behind him.

Buffy wanted to scream. Rage was running like fire through her veins. In frustration, she punched the wall as hard as she could. The cinderblock cracked. Buffy held up her hand. Her knuckles were barely red. She walked over to the cot, wrapped her palm around the metal frame, and bent it easily.

Buffy pulled her hand back like the metal burned. She was elated and horrified. She’d been called. She was a Slayer. It meant some other girl had died, only she had no tears for that girl, not now, if it meant Dawn and Anne would live. Silently, Buffy thanked the other girl. She eyed the door, wondering if she could rip it off its hinges.

If only Mr. Trick didn’t have Spike and Wes. She had to wait until she knew where they were and could rescue them. If she didn’t play along, Mr. Trick would slaughter them. And she didn’t know how much power she really had or how strong she truly was. Vampire Slayer, that’s what she was. Maybe that’s where she should start, by slaying Kralik. It’d make Mr. Trick hopping mad and maybe he’d make a mistake.

She wrapped an arm around her middle. The weight of her daughters seemed easier to carry. She had to believe she could do this.

Once Kralik was gone…

Mr. Trick had signed his own death warrant and bought her a lovely dress to do the deed in.

For the first time in days, a smile curved her lips upward.

****

The knocking on The Sun Thief’s door got louder.

Lorne, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, stumbled over to open the door. Willow followed, worried he was going to collapse.

“Yes?” Lorne said curtly to a very stunned looking Officer Knight, who was standing on the sidewalk.

“Hi, Officer, can we help you?” Willow asked.

Knight’s eyes were so wide it was a wonder they didn’t fall out his head. “I just ended my shift. I haven’t been able to find anything out about Buffy’s disappearance and was wondering if you guys had heard anything at all. A ransom demand, anything. Maybe something you were afraid to come to us with…” He trailed off, gaze still locked on Lorne. “I’m sorry, is that a costume?”

Lorne sighed. “No.” He turned and walked back into the bar.

Officer Knight didn’t seem to know what to say.

Willow reached out a hand and put it on his. “Officer Knight, I know you really care about Buffy.” He nodded. “We know where she is.”

“You do?” His brows pulled together.

“It’s complicated. Lorne is the guy who actually owns this bar. He’s a demon. I’m a witch, so’s my girlfriend. This is a demon bar. You can walk in here and find out the truth, or you can go home and pretend you never knocked on this door.”

The officer took his hat off and ran a hand over his dark hair. “This is the part where I get to choose if I’m in or out of the Matrix, huh?”

Willow smiled. “Nerd.”

He smiled back. “Okay, I’m in.” He followed her into the bar. He politely shook Clem’s hand, told Anya she didn’t look a day over 700 when she introduced herself as a millennia-old ex-demon, and only turned a degree paler when Dalton shifted to his demon face.

The butcher introduced himself and then his daughter. Officer Knight’s head tilted to the side as he took Rowena’s hand. “Call me Jorge,” he said.

She looked up at him through her lashes. “I should tell you I’m a vampire too.”

“Oh,” Jorge said. He hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Um, Buffy’s boyfriend–Spike, you remember him?–he’s a vampire as well. And she’s totally human.” Willow said, wanting one good thing to maybe come out of the day.  

The butcher had a soft smile on his face. “You want to sit at our table, son?”

Jorge nodded and finally let go of Rowena’s fingers.

“I’ll fill the boy in,” the butcher added with a nod to Willow.

“Thank you,” she whispered and went to sit beside Tara, who was nervously sipping a glass of water.

At the bar, Xander turned on the TV and entered the code. A countdown timer with a minute left appeared on the screen.

****

When the shark-toothed demons came and collected her, Buffy went willingly. They were both a lot bigger than her and even if she could eventually kill them, they’d probably hurt her pretty badly first.

Winning against Kralik was her only hope. He was just a vamp, right? She’d dusted one without being the Slayer. Should be easy-peasy, now, right?

They marched her down several flights of stairs and into the tunnel that led to the entrance to the arena. She winced as the corpse of the losing contestant from the final demon versus demon battle was dragged past, leaving a trail of blood behind.

At the end of the tunnel, a massive gate swung open just far enough to let her in. One of the shark-toothed demons put a beefy hand on her back and shoved her through.  A roar went up as she stumbled into the arena. Her eyes sought the crowd. There were quite a few demons there, probably all Mr. Trick’s cronies, but compared to the huge crowds the stadium could hold, it wasn’t that many.

Holding her head up and looking forward, she walked to the middle of the arena. There was sawdust on the ground and she could smell the sharp pine scent mixed with blood. The air was cold and goose bumps raced across her skin. There were a few lights, but torches flickered amid the piles of junk. She reached the center of the arena and stopped, looking up into the darkness.

“Buffy!” Mr. Trick’s voice hollered at her. She turned to face him. He was standing outside of the stadium’s media booth. “This is goodbye. It’s been fabulous knowing you. And, Buffy…smile for the camera.”

****

Spike hadn’t paid much attention to the demon matches, not caring. Wes had been grimly silent as well, but a sudden gasp from the Watcher made Spike look up at the screen.

Buffy was in the arena.

The pain in his heart was far greater than that of his shattered leg. He’d failed her.

She stopped in the middle of the open area, the torchlight flickering over her. She was achingly beautiful in a pure white dress, her shoulders bare. A shiver shook her and for a moment Spike forgot himself. His girl was cold and needed his jacket. He started to rise, but his leg failed him and sent him crashing back to the floor. The jarring of his injuries focused his mind back on the here and now. He fought his bonds, screamed her name until a wing-tipped foot kicked just the right place on his thigh to have his entire body go rigid with pain.

“None of that,” Mr. Trick said. “You’re going to miss the show.”

He grabbed Spike’s hair and lifted him back to his knees, forcing his head towards the TV screen, where Kralik was circling Buffy.

“Kill me,” Spike said. He couldn’t watch this. Couldn’t see the lives he valued more than his own snuffed out. Buffy...his daughters…he should have had a lifetime to show them how much he loved them.

Mr. Trick snorted.  

On the screen, Buffy was keeping her eyes on Kralik, her arms wrapped around her nine-month rounded belly.

****

Willow gasped and jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair and Tara’s water glass as Kralik rushed towards Buffy, who darted away, running as well as she could and putting a stack of junk between her and the vampire. The creature roared in protest, but stalked slowly after her, obviously knowing who the eventual victor would be.

****

Buffy was panting. Apparently being the Slayer didn’t give you a greater lung capacity when two babies were taking up most of the room in your torso. What it was letting her do was keep track of where Kralik was. There were tinglies on her skin, like some kind of vampire radar. She waited until he was right on the other side of the junk pile and then hurried to the next, and then the next.

She wiped her palms on her dress, any confidence she’d had long gone. This Kralik guy was way different than any vampire she’d seen before.  There was no humanity at all left. It terrified her more than she wanted to admit.

The junk pile she was hiding behind shifted and, with a roar, Kralik jumped through it. Buffy screamed and quickly backed away. She grabbed an empty tin can and threw it at the vampire. It hit his face and rolled harmlessly away. The creature laughed.

Buffy rabbited away, not able to go far. Just around another junk pile. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled behind an old car. It smelled like something had died in it. The car itself was a rusted-out land-yacht. She peeked over the hood. Kralik hadn’t located her just yet, he was grabbing things out of a junk pile and tossing them wildly away, maybe trying to flush her out. Or maybe just because he was nuts.

The car had a metal antenna and, eyes still on Kralik, she reached up and snapped it off. The snap was louder than she’d thought it’d be and the vampire swung towards her hiding spot with a snarl. It charged, leaping on the hood of the car. Screaming, Buffy stood and jammed the antenna into Kralik’s leg just above his knee. The vampire roared in pain but fell to the ground when it tried to lunge after her.

Hurrying as much as she could, gasping for air, she put as much distance between her and the enraged, bellowing monster as possible. Her eyes darted to every pile of junk she passed, looking for what she needed.

Finally, body trembling, she found it. Right in the middle of a pile, under an old TV with a blown-out screen, was the remains of a wooden pallet. She turned and put her back to it, hiding her hand’s actions from the cameras.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, patting her stomach with her other hand. “It’s okay, Mommy’s taking care of you.”

****

Spike didn’t care that there was a camera pointed at him. He wept openly, his bound hands not letting him wipe the tears away. “Love you,” he kept murmuring, hoping somehow Buffy would hear him, feel how much he loved her, Dawn, and Anne. “Love you, love you, love you,” he told the girl on the screen as she fled from the monster behind her.

****

Lorne had quit watching. His face was buried against Dalton’s shoulder, who was staring unblinkingly at the screen.

Willow felt Tara’s hand tug at her sweater and she let herself be pulled onto Tara’s lap.

“I can’t believe this,” Officer Knight said for the millionth time. They’d had to stop him from trying to call the police, finally convincing him he’d just be getting his coworkers killed. Now he sat, staring wide-eyed at the screen while Rowena clutched his hand and darted worried glances at her father.

Willow trembled as, on screen, Buffy had one hand up as if she could ward off the approaching Kralik. The other was behind her. The crazed vampire loomed over her.

****

Buffy fought back rising nausea at the stink of the vampire that was snarling down at her. She stood her ground but didn’t have to fake the fear she knew was stamped on her face.

Almost casually, Kralik backhanded her, hitting her shoulder and sending her spinning to the side. She caught herself on hands and knees, then quickly flipped over and scuttled away from the vampire, keeping the jagged splinter of broken off wood in her hand hidden in the folds of her dress.

Kralik’s eyes were focused on her belly. Dawn and Anne were squirming, as if aware of the peril they were in. Their movements were visible as her belly shifted and stretched.

The vampire licked his lips.

****

Xander picked up the phone. “Hey, you ready?” he said into the receiver.

****

Spike whimpered and cried for his girls as Kralik dropped to his knees and crawled over Buffy’s body. The camera angle was from behind and Spike howled, thinking he was about to watch the love of his life be defiled, but Kralik reared back. The camera angle shifted, allowing Spike to watch Kralik run a hand over Buffy’s abdomen. With an unhinged laugh, the vampire raised his hand high, claws gleaming in the torchlight. He laughed again and Spike closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch this.

There was a startled noise from Wes. “That’s it, that’s a girl!”

Spike's eye popped back open. Buffy was clutching a chunk of wood in her hand. Her foot lashed out, catching Kralik in the stomach and sending him over backward. Faster than he’d ever seen her move, Buffy was up on her knees, the impromptu stake descending towards the vampire’s chest.

Spike’s tears turned to ones of stunned joy as the crazed vampire exploded into a cloud of dust.

****

A cry of victory went up from everyone at The Sun Thief as Kralik disintegrated. Willow threw her arms around Tara’s neck and hugged her.

Xander was yelling into the phone. “Dude, whatever you do, don’t blow the arena right now. Maybe don’t go anywhere yet, but don’t push that button.”

“Guys, there’s Spike again!” Clem’s voice cut through the jubilation. There’d been shots of Spike and Wes, both obviously captives of Mr. Trick, during Buffy’s fight with Kralik. Willow had never seen misery like what had been on Spike’s face. Now he was grinning, as was Wes.

“I’m glad they’re still alive,” Willow said.

 “Let’s hope they stay that way,” Tara whispered.

****

Buffy didn’t let herself pause to enjoy her defeat of the crazed monster. There was another vampire she owed a dusting to.

Brushing the dirt and dust off her hands and holding her makeshift stake, she strode towards the wall of the arena above which the media booth rested. There was a ladder there, currently retracted. Buffy transferred her stake to her left hand and scooped up a short section of pipe from another pile of junk. She threw it and it zoomed across the open space, knocking the ladder’s catch free. The ladder dropped into place with a squeal of metal.

She climbed it, marveling at how much easier it was to move now that she’d been called.

****

Lorne stood. He threw his arms wide and laughed. “She’s the Slayer!” He blew a kiss heavenward. “Thank you! Thank you! You didn’t forget her.”

****

Buffy eyed the closed door of the booth, then kicked it open.

Mr. Trick was standing there, along with a few other demons. His face was outraged. “You, you!” he sputtered. Her eyes darted past him to two figures kneeling on the floor.

“Spike?” she whispered. His face was bruised and bloodied. She stared in horror. What had happened to him? Why wasn’t he standing? He started to move and agony blossomed on his face.

“Buffy!” he hollered, voice panicked. “Buffy!”

She hadn’t realized Mr. Trick had moved until the stake was knocked from her hand. It clattered to the floor at her feet.

“You little bitch!” he snarled. His fingers closed around her throat and he slammed her back against the wall as he began to squeeze. “You getting this?” he yelled at the cameraman. Buffy clawed at his hands, but he was as strong as she was and didn’t need oxygen. She tried to kick him but didn’t have enough leverage to do more than annoy the irate vampire holding her. The world swam in front of her eyes and started going gray around the edges.

****

Willow clasped a hand over her mouth to hold in a scream as Buffy’s struggles weakened. Mr. Trick, yellow eyes gleeful, grinned into the camera.

****

Buffy fought. She jerked her body, struggled against the hands that were tight around her throat. But she couldn’t…couldn’t…

The hands disappeared suddenly and she gasped in air that banished the spots that’d been dancing in her vision.

“That’s it!” Mr. Trick snarled. “I’m really getting tired of you and your whore!”

Spike, his hands bound behind him, was leaning heavily against one of the room’s AV consoles. He was wearing his demon face and blood was running down his chin. He spat out the chunk of flesh and expensive suit that he’d taken out of Mr. Trick’s shoulder.

“Watch your bloody mouth,” Spike growled. His thigh was…wrong. Probably broken. He had to be in incredible pain.

Mr. Trick didn’t say anything, just lashed out with his foot, hitting Spike’s broken leg and making him scream. 

Buffy wanted to scream herself. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Another part of herself, the new part, was in the driver’s seat.

It was furious.

She crouched down, retrieved her stake, and rose in one smooth motion, her pregnancy not a hindrance to muscles that seemed now, of their own accord, to know how to keep her balanced.

“Buffy?” she heard Wes ask, his tone bewildered, but she didn’t have time for questions.

“Shall we see how long it takes me to saw your fucking head off with this?” Mr. Trick was screeching. A dirk with a diamond in the hilt was clutched in his hand. He had a knee against Spike’s fractured leg and was pressing into the break. Spike was still attempting to fight back, snapping his fangs and trying to push Mr. Trick away, but pain was etched into every line of his face.

Mr. Trick raised his hard to strike, but Buffy caught his wrist with a sharp blow and the dirk flew harmlessly away.

“You c…“ Mr. Trick’s words faded as her stake entered his chest and he fell to dust at her feet.

“Buffy,” Spike groaned. Her sneakers scattered Mr. Trick’s remains as she rushed towards Spike.  

****

Willow was crying and hugging Tara.

On the TV, Buffy leaned against Spike and his mouth claimed hers in a hungry kiss.

Willow couldn’t stop her tears as relief swept through her.

Buffy broke the kiss and turned towards the camera. She stepped forward so her face filled the screen.

“Turn it off. The show’s over.”


	36. Toast

Heaven sent hell away

                -Soundgarden, “Black Hole Sun”

****

She tasted of sunshine, love, family, life, and Buffy. Spike wanted to throw his arms around her, but they were still linked behind his back. Breaking the kiss, he looked down into her beloved face. Buffy was smiling widely, her gaze fixed on him.

“Thanks,” Wes said from across the room. There was a scrawny kid with dark hair helping the Watcher to his feet. Wes rubbed his chain-free wrists. “I’m going to call The Sun Thief and let Lorne know we’re alive and see how we can get home.”

The kid, key in hand, advanced on Spike. “I’m just going to undo your hands, okay?” he said. Spike nodded and the kid disappeared behind him. A few seconds later the heavy chains slid to the floor. Spike didn’t hesitate, he gathered Buffy against him. Her belly was delightfully in the way. Dawn and Anne were kicking. He longed to go to his knees and press his cheek against her baby bump and tell his girls how much he’d missed them as well, but he settled for putting a hand on the swell of Buffy’s stomach. His fractured leg would be getting in the way for a week or so until it healed.

“Thank you...but hey, I don’t know your name,” Buffy said, and the dark-haired kid, who’d backed a few feet away from them, blushed.

“It’s Keith,” he mumbled.

“Really?” Buffy looked confused. “That’s not a very scary name.”

The kid blushed harder.

“You can always come up with a cool nickname,” Spike offered, taking pity on the kid.

“T-thanks.” He bowed his head so his scruffy hair fell in front of his face. “I’m glad you’re okay, Buffy. And thanks for killing Mr. Trick, but you should probably go. Being the one to dust Mr. Trick should mean you take over his business stuff,  but there’s a lot of demons here that aren’t so nice and they’re going to be fighting to do that themselves. Most everyone else ran away already.”

“It appears we have a ride,” Wes said, hanging up the phone he’d found on one of the room’s desks. “Everyone is at The Sun Thief. Mr. Trick gave them access to watch the show. I guess this place is set to be demolished and they were going to blow it rather than let you watch your children be killed, Buffy.”

Spike closed his eyes and placed his cheek again Buffy’s hair. He’d almost lost his girls.

“I am a bit surprised it happened to you, Buffy, but I was very glad to see it.” Wes’ voice was warm. “How does it feel to be the Slayer?”

Slayer? Spike’s eyes snapped open. He’d been thinking the odd, effervescent feeling running up and down his spine was related to how happy he was to see Buffy. But no, he’d felt it before. Three times before. All from girls who were designed to put a stake in his chest. Ones whose first instinct it was to dust him. He straightened up.

“It’s weird,” Buffy was saying. “I feel stronger, even the babies seem less of a burden.” She outlined her belly through the heavy fabric of her white dress. Chris, she looked beautiful. And deadly. He couldn’t forget deadly. Though if she wanted to dust him, he wouldn’t fight back.

He tried to take a step away, but his fractured leg made him stumble and he cried out at the sudden agony.

Buffy reached for him and for a moment his pain-fogged brain made him see something in her hand. He flinched and hurt flashed across her face. “Spike?” she asked.

His eyes went to the Watcher. “She’s the Slayer?”

“Yes,” Wes replied, forehead wrinkling.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy’s voice was wounded and it sliced his heart in two. Would it be worse for her to watch him leave, or to kill him in a moment of Slayer-fueled instinctual action?

“Will she…as the Slayer, with me being a vamp…will she try to kill me?” Spike asked Wes.

“Excuse me?” Buffy snapped. He risked glancing back at her, then couldn’t look away. She had her hands on her hips and fire flashed in her eyes. She was gorgeous. His demon was rather desperate to get to her. She really needed a good shagging.

Wes sighed, loudly. “Spike, quit being a blithering idiot. You're supposed to kill Slayers. Do you want to hurt her?”

What? “Never,” he breathed. He wanted to kiss her more, again, everywhere.

“She’s still Buffy. It’s not like she’s an unthinking stake-wielding automaton now. She’s your girlfriend that loves you, for whatever reason, so I suggest you stop freaking her out. She’s not going to stick a stake in you.” Wes chuckled. “Well, probably not, unless you’re really annoying, but she still wouldn’t aim for your heart.”

Spike snorted. “C’mere, luv. I didn’t mean to be a bloody wanker.” He held his hands out to her and she rushed into his arms once more. It jolted his leg, but he managed to do no more than grimace in pain. “Let’s go home,” he said, petting her hair. “You might have to help me, with the leg and all. Nothing a little blood won’t fix.” He dropped his voice “I don’t suppose the Gem of Amara is in an easy to get to place?”

“Oh! Geez!” Buffy stepped back from him and started digging around in her top of her bodice. He couldn’t figure out exactly what she was doing, though it looked like she was trying to push down the front of her dress. He watched avidly. If she thought showing him her tits would help, he wasn’t going to complain.

She finally pulled her hand back out with something glittering in her grasp. Taking his hand, she slipped the Gem on his finger. The effect was immediate. He could feel the bruises fading and his leg knitting itself back together. He was left feeling a trifle giddy.

With a whoop, he swung Buffy up into his arms and twirled around while she clung to him, laughing. Stopping, he kissed her again while she settled a hand on his face and her warm fingertips stroked him.

“You had the ring with you? This whole time?” Wes’ scandalized voice broke through Spike’s joy and he carefully set Buffy back on her feet.

“I was supposed to keep it somewhere he wouldn’t find it,” Buffy said defensively.

Wes’ eyebrows shot up. “He wouldn’t be looking in your cleavage?” Hey, yeah, Spike knew he definitely looked in her cleavage.

“Not with my bra on.”

Oh, right, she had a point.

Wes looked heavenward. “How did you keep Mr. Trick from finding it?”

“They didn’t search me very thoroughly.” She shrugged. “Pregnancy tends to be a big distraction as well as screaming ‘I’m not a threat’. I don’t think they were all that worried about me, to tell you the truth. I was just a lamb for slaughter.”

Spike really wished he could watch Trick dust all over again. He moved behind Buffy and settled his hands on her hips, pulling her back against him. “You’re my lamb, my sweet little lamb…” He nuzzled her neck and she giggled. “That kicked their fucking asses.” She outright laughed.

Wes dragged a hand over his face. “Shall we go now?”

“Keith,” Buffy said, looking at the kid that Spike had nearly forgotten was there. He was eating a granola bar he’d gotten from who knows where. “How about you come with us? And do you really think that it’s mostly the worst of Seattle’s demon community left in here?” Buffy looked towards the ceiling. Spike followed her gaze. A bundle of explosives, with a blinking light, was taped there.

Shit, he needed to get her out of this place.

“Yeah,” Keith mumbled around his granola bar.

“Is there anyone else we should save or warn?” Buffy pressed.

Keith shook his head. “I think anyone that isn’t interested in trying to fight for Mr. Trick’s place took off. I can show you where his headquarters is. Though I guess it’s your headquarters now. You killing Mr. Trick was on T.V., lots of demons will be totally okay with you being the next boss. And then can you drop me off at home? My gran’s going to be worried.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Spike bent down, retrieving the fancy dirk Mr. Trick had dropped. He handed it to Buffy. “Just in case. Let me do the heavy lifting. Not because you can’t, I know you bloody well can, but because I need to.”

She patted his chest. “I understand.”

They exited through the door at the rear of the AV room, out into the hallway Spike had been dragged through earlier in the night. A knot of demons was talking, something about killing off a rival to secure their power. As the door the AV room banged closed, the demons’ heads snapped towards it.

Two of the creatures, hulking big ones, left the group and advanced on Spike and the others. The demons smiled, revealing rows of gleaming, shark-like teeth.

“Spike,” Buffy said, laying her hand on his shoulder. “Those are the two that abducted me.”

Fury rocketed through him and Buffy grinned. Howling his anger, Spike charged, darting to one side at the last moment, jumping and kicking off the wall to land behind the pair. They died too easily.

Other enemies were moving down the hallway, but he had time to glance at Buffy.

She blew him a kiss.

Oh, hell yeah.

He could hardly feel the ground under his feet and his demon was preening.

Doing an about face he met the onrushing group of enemies, yanking a sword—hey, it was his!—from one of them and making short work of the entire gang.

Spike led the way, and soon they were in the parking structure, not having faced near enough foes to sate his need for revenge. A white, crew cab truck skidded to a stop not far from them. The door opened and a nervous looking man, no, demon looked out. “Lorne sent me! Hurry up, this place ain’t safe.”

They piled in, Wes and Keith taking the narrow back seat and Spike sitting with Buffy in the front.

The guy driving gunned the engine and took off, speeding down the closest exit ramp and into the parking lot of the Kingdome.  He stopped just before exiting the lot.

“Oh man,” he said. “Oh man. There are tons and tons of explosives in that place.” The guy was shaking.

“Detonator.” Buffy held out her hand.

The guy looked grateful to be handing it over.

“How long of a delay?” she asked.

“It’s supposed to be five minutes, but I programmed it, for tonight, to be instant.” The demon drummed the steering wheel with his fingers.

“Buffy?” Wes asked.

“I’m the Slayer,” she said quietly. She looked back at Keith. “And I trust you. You didn’t have to give me your dinner that night, but you did. So if you say everyone’s out that needs to be, I believe you.”

Keith squared his shoulders. “You can trust me.”

Spike rested a hand on her belly while he hugged her tight with the other arm. “Now if only the 1812 Overture was playing.”

“Really?” Wes said.

“What? I can’t know—”

The rest of his words, not to mention thoughts, were obliterated from the roar of the Kingdome imploding. Spike wrapped himself around Buffy with an animal need to protect her.

The blast wave rocked the truck and gray, gritty dust pelted it, coming in through the vents and leaving them all coughing.

“Sorry,” the driver wheezed. “I didn’t think to close them.”

“We better go,” Wes said. “Before the cops show up asking questions.”

Spike looked out the back window of the truck. The dust had cleared enough that the lights of the city were twinkling where once there’d only been the black shape of the stadium. It was almost pretty.

Buffy sighed and leaned against him. “Time to go home.”

****

After the craziness of escaping from Mr. Trick and blowing the Kingdome to…well…kingdom come, Buffy had only had enough energy to briefly stop at The Sun Thief and get hugs from what she’d come to think of as her family. Spike had been slapped on the back by the butcher and had looked completely embarrassed as Officer Knight had shook his hand.

Buffy had introduced the cop to Keith and explained who he was. After Lorne purloined Keith and had written down the address to Mr. Trick’s headquarters, which was above some expensive car dealership not far from the middle of downtown, he’d returned the kid to the officer, who’d offered to drive him home. Buffy hadn’t missed how Knight had kissed the butcher’s daughter goodnight, just on her cheek, or how the girl’s fingers had ghosted over the spot afterward.

The next day had been her and Spike’s chance to rest.

It’d been a good day. A peaceful day. Buffy sighed, happy to have nothing but her snacking needs to worry about.

Lorne and Wes were at Mr. Trick’s headquarters, sorting through mountains of paper. Apparently, there was a lot of money involved in his operation. Tomorrow, she and Spike were going to go and help since technically it now all belonged to her.

Buffy frowned. This was a lot of new roles all at once: Slayer and demon mob boss. Not to mention mother to twins any day now.

She was standing in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open, contemplating her options. The kitchen was glowing with sunlight, as she as Spike had gleefully torn the tinfoil off the window earlier. Nothing in the fridge looked appetizing, so she shut the door, but opened it back up a second later, thirsty this time.

They’d fallen asleep in a heap the night before, both exhausted. She’d woken up once during the night to find Spike scooted down in the bed and talking earnestly to his daughters, something about loving them, taking care of them, and making sure they got lots of ice cream. The girls had been awake and seemed as happy as she was to have their daddy back. Buffy had rested a hand on his head and drifted back off to sleep.

In the morning, she’d opened her eyes to Spike being up, dressed, and making her bacon, eggs, and toast. The smell had been heavenly. She’d sat on the edge of the futon for a moment, savoring it, and remembering the first morning she’d woken up to find him there doing the exact same thing. It seemed like forever ago, instead of not quite half a year. Now she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

She had sat down at the table, finding the morning paper there and the crossword ready to go with a pencil beside it. The sight had nearly made her cry in its normalcy.  Spike had set a plate in front of her with a flourish along with a glass of milk, then sat down in his usual spot across from her and picked up the paper and pencil. Only he’d paused, put them back down, stood, and moved the chair to the same side of the table as her, to her left so he wouldn’t get in the way of her eating. He’d sat down, poised pencil over paper again, and once more stopped. Frowning, he’d scooted over until his thigh was pressed against hers. Finally relaxing, he’d read her the first clue.

For the rest of the day, they’d been almost inseparable, cuddling on the couch except for Buffy’s bathroom breaks. She had finally worked herself up to showering and it’d felt so good to be clean. Now Spike was in there, singing to himself like always. The sound was soothing, reminding her that he wasn’t very far away, though she was almost sure _Rock the Casbah_ had a few more lyrics than what she’d been hearing.

The bathroom door opened and steam billowed out. She straightened up and let the fridge door close, still not having decided between apple or cranberry juice. Spike ran his hands over his still damp hair, slicking it back, though it’d go back curly as it dried. He was bare chested with nothing but his black pajama bottoms on, which meant she didn’t know what part of him she wanted to stare at the most.

Spike walked to the window and braced his hands on either side of it, leaning forward into the bright sunlight streaming through it. His eyes were closed as he basked in the warmth.

Buffy was mesmerized. He looked impossibly handsome and it seemed sort of improbable that he was standing in the same room as her. His PJs were riding low on his hips, and the thought of them giving way was making her mouth water and her fingers twitch.

She quirked her lips to the side. Okay, she was being ridiculous. There was no reason she had to stand there staring like a dolt, he was her boyfriend. She could touch him. All of him. Whenever she wanted.

Buffy padded over to stand behind him and reached out, resting her palms on his shoulder blades. Spike let out a contented sigh and dropped his head forward. She ran her hands up to lightly scratch the nape of his neck, then trailed her fingers over his back, tracing every dip and ridge. He pressed against her hands like a cat, a purr even rumbled through his chest.

She stroked him for a few more minutes, just content to enjoy the solid feel of him under her hands, but eventually, contentment gave way to a persistent ache between her legs and she needed more. Skimming her hands down his sides, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his PJs and tugged. They didn’t need much convincing to fall to the floor. Delighted, she grabbed his ass with both hands, squeezing and kneading the flesh and making him groan.

Looking down, Buffy eyed her very in the way baby-bump. She wanted to hug him from behind and press herself against him or have a handful of his rear while he made love to her.

“Everything okay back there, luv?” 

Buffy shook her head to clear it and realized she’d gone still. “Just tired of being pregnant again. I want to be able to do this­­­­­­­­­—” she roughly squeezed one of his butt cheeks, “while we’re…doing it.”

“You’re adorable,” he said hoarsely.

She let go and turned so her back was against the wall beside the window. Hesitating only briefly, she put her hand on the middle of his chest and slid it down to his bellybutton. As she started the return trek, his hand covered hers and pushed it down until he wrapped her palm around his erection. He released her hand and braced himself again as she stroked his length.

His lips parted and he sucked in a ragged breath. Her nipples were tightening down painfully and her entire body was humming with need. “Spike,” she gasped.

He turned his face towards her, resting his cheek on his arm and cracking his eyes open. “Need something, kitten?”

Buffy narrowed her gaze at him and let go of his cock. “Maybe.” She squeaked as in the next instant she was scooped up into Spike’s arms and being carried to the futon. Carefully, he set her down and she scooted over, wiggling out of her sleep-shorts as she did so. Spike slid in next to her and spooned himself against her back. His fingers worked their way under her top to stroke her breast and tweak her nipple. He kissed her shoulder and neck while grinding his hard-on against her ass.

He felt so good against her. When she’d been alone and held against her will in that tiny room she’d hardly let herself think about how Spike made her body sing. She’d simply wished to see him again, as if wanting anything more when she’d had so little had been too much to even dream about. But now she needed him with a fierceness she hardly recognized.

Spike’s hand went from her breast to her hip, pausing briefly with his fingers spread wide over her belly. She bent her top leg to give him easier access, and as he slid the pad of a finger over her slick folds he groaned.

His finger was replaced with the head of his cock and she trembled in anticipation, but right as she was expecting him to surge forward, he froze. Buffy glanced over her shoulder, finding him looking at her with confusion on his face, maybe even a smidge of fear. “Uh, Spike?” she asked.

“I just thought...this isn’t something I’ve ever done with a Slayer.”

“I should hope not!” she snapped and turned away from him with a huff. “You probably hadn’t served one breakfast before or rubbed their feet while they watched TV, either, but that didn’t stop you earlier.” Buffy dropped her head onto a pillow. She was angry. This was so not cool. She couldn’t take him being weird over something she had no control over. “And don’t give me some line about getting used to it. I know that you have to, but I’m not used to it either. Am I suddenly going to have an overwhelming need to wander around in the dark and stick a stake in things? I have no idea! But by all means, if putting your dick in a Slayer is too freaking weird because you’re supposed to kill them, well there’s the bathroom, go have another shower and take care of business!” She was panting, hurt settling into the pit of her stomach. 

“Buffy,” Spike snarled. “Christ, woman—” He broke off and jerked his hips forward, the head of his cock breaching her channel and sliding in several inches. She gasped along with him. “I wasn’t worried about you, more what if now…what if now I’m not good enough for you? Or not enough for you at all?” He pressed his face into the nape of her neck as he spoke. “I’m just a vampire.”

The feelings of anger and hurt popped like soap bubbles. “But you’re my vampire, and I love you.” She stopped herself from adding ‘duh’ since it should be obvious to him, instead, she wiggled her hips.

“Oh, kitten, I love you too, so much. My goddess, my everything.”

“Your everything really wants you to fuck her.” Her cheeks heated even as she said, but it was true, her need to feel him hadn’t decreased.

“Yes, always. So sweet…” he trailed off into a loud moan as he thrust forward, working his cock inside her.

To Buffy’s disappointment, she had to tell him to stop way before he was to the hilt. “Sorry,” she murmured. “If there was anything I really wanted from this whole Slayer gig…”

He chuckled and his fingers grazed her hip before sliding between her legs to pet her pubic hair. “It’s okay, I don’t think you being chosen made the girls any smaller. Though the second we get the okay to get back in the sack after they’re born, I’m going to climb on top of you and kiss you breathless while pounding you into the mattress. Never thought I’d want to fuck in good ole’ missionary position this badly.”

He was gently moving his rigid cock, sliding barely an inch out with each stroke, before returning to where she’d said was as deep as she could take him.

She moaned at his words and squeezed her inner muscles. The idea of being face to face and kissing seemed like a terribly exciting fantasy.

“Bloody hell!” Spike barked and stopped moving.

“What?”

“Do that again!”

“Do what”

“Squeeze.”

She did, rolling her hips slightly, and sucking a breath in at the hard prod of him inside her.

Spike groaned loudly.

“Uh, you want to share?” He’d always liked her working him with her pussy, but it sounded like he was experiencing the rapture back there.

“Er, maybe not?”

She twisted so she could see his face, which was sheepish. She raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to make you mad…der.”

“Out with it or I’m going to be the one taking a second shower.”

He sighed. “I don’t think the muscles of your arms and legs were the only ones that got a boost with you being called, luv. Not there was anything wrong with how you were before, was heaven, but now…heaven with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

She squeezed again, harder, and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Buffy giggled. 

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“I’m not mad. I know you were good with how things were, but now I feel like I really have something to offer. Not all cats are gray anymore.”

“Whatever I say right now is only going to get me in trouble. So enough talking.” There was the subtle noise of his demon-face shifting into place and a white-hot bolt of awareness zinged down her spine just as his fingers found her clit and started rubbing frantic little circles. He thrust in staccato beats, quickly driving her towards her peak. She forgot everything but the feel of him against and inside her.

Her body clamped down and she came with a wail. Bliss like she’d never known washed through every cell of her body. Fireworks exploded behind her eyelids and she thought she might rattle apart from the intensity of it all. When she regained control of her mind and limbs she knew one thing: she needed more.

Spike made a noise of protest when she pushed him away and rolled onto her knees, but the sound died in his throat when she pushed him flat against the futon and straddled his hips. “Yes,” he moaned instead, his hand clamping onto her hip. The other went to position his cock for her, and she slid down it as far as she could.

She moved up and down on him, not caring that he was getting an eyeful of her belly. To her surprise, she felt something she might hesitantly call pride. Her body had carried her daughters through a lot, had nourished and protected them. It could still give and receive pleasure, and judging from the worshipful look in her boyfriend’s eyes, he was happy enough with her.

A cry escaped her lips as he returned to strumming her clit. She grabbed his other hand and brought it to her breast, no longer worried about how his elbow brushed her abdomen and curled around it to reach her.

Her body tightened, her thighs shook, and she came, keening. It was the exquisite rush of pleasure again and what brain cells she had left wondered if this was some kind of Slayer bonus.

Spike was grunting roughly and his hand left her to fondle himself as she continued to ride him. Her breast tightened and an aftershock went through her. Buffy looked down to find it leaking into his palm. Eyes heavy-lidded, he brought his hand to his lips and licked it clean. His face was pure bliss. With a harsh grunt, he bucked under her and came. His cock jerked and she squeezed in rhythm with its pulsing. His eyes rolled back again, but this time he lay still, hands at his sides.

Grinning, Buffy lay down with her back to him. Part of her was sure she should feel ashamed. She’d pushed him around and her body had dripped colostrum at a less than opportune time, but he’d been thrilled about all that. Had gotten off on it. Would never make her feel bad about any of it. And if he didn’t mind? Then she knew she could be more than okay with it too.

After a few minutes, she elbowed him. Spike made a sleepy, snuffly noise and rolled so he was spooning her with an arm draped over her.

“Wuv you,” he mumbled in her ear and yawned.

Buffy stroked the back of his hand. “Wuv you, too.”


	37. Coffee

Shaft of a light, a warm breath and a scream

                -Pearl Jam, “Breath”

****

Buffy flopped down on the couch. Her brand-new, dark brown, puffy, sectional couch in her brand-new, two story house. She still couldn’t believe it. It turned out that Mr. Trick had been buying real estate, including nearly an entire street’s worth of homes on Alki Point, a neighborhood just across the Sound from Seattle. The schools were excellent and parks abundant among the adorable homes, most of which had beautiful, established gardens. She had no idea what Mr. Trick had intended to do with the homes, but it hadn’t been hard for Lorne to convince nearly everyone to move to the quiet street the homes were on. Buffy and Spike’s was the biggest, with an impressive view of the Sound from the second floor.

She’d spent an entire day shopping for things to fill it, dragging Spike around to store after store. She still hadn’t wrapped her mind around the fact that she never had to worry about money again. Judging from the giant TV in her living room, Spike wasn’t having nearly so much trouble adjusting.

Buffy patted her belly. Thirty-eight and a half weeks. Fred was checking on her twice a day and thought Buffy, Dawn, and Anne were all doing just fine. The girls were active and Buffy figured she—and Spike—would be running after them for the rest of their lives. Fred supposedly still had her own place, but Wes’ new house, just down the street, was apparently closer to Harborview Hospital. Or it was quicker to get there, or whatever excuse Fred could come up with make her staying overnight at Wes’ place seem like it wasn’t about her sleeping with him. Buffy secretly found it adorable.

Keith was in the kitchen, eating something and fielding calls from demons worried about what Buffy taking over Mr. Trick’s operation would mean for them. The vast majority of the callers paid “protection” money of some kind, and while there hadn’t been a lot of protecting going on, it did create interconnection within the demon community, most of which weren’t the kind that preyed on humans and needed slaying. Her plan was to lower the amount they paid, but keep everyone in the loop so they could turn to her if actual protection was needed, or if they had other problems that the non-demon world couldn’t handle.

Her once-stalker had proven very handy at dealing with everything. For all his dyed black hair and ugly clothes, he was a born organizer. She’d hired him full time and cut the rent on his grandmother’s place, and he was quickly proving to be extremely useful. As well as overly grateful. She had three Costco-sized boxes of granola bars in her pantry now.

Wes collapsed on the couch beside Buffy and leaned back. “This day has gone on forever.”

“Poor Watcher,” she said. “Are you required to help your Slayer and her vampire-boyfriend move?”

“It’s just an added bonus.” He opened his eyes and turned his head towards her. “I called one of my Council contacts.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “Yes?”

“You’re not going to believe this.” He smiled at her and she raised an eyebrow. Wes sat up and turned slightly towards her. “I asked my contact if a new Slayer had been called, that there were rumblings among the demons that something had happened to the last girl, Faith, I believe.”

Buffy felt ill. Faith. Some girl that’d died so that she might live.

“And my contact laughed. She said that rumors of Faith’s death are greatly exaggerated, that she is alive and doing well, guarding the hellmouth in Cleveland. Then my contact told me the rest of the story. Faith did die, briefly, I guess electrocuted while chasing after some damn vampire—”

“I heard that!” Spike shouted from the other room.

“I wasn’t talking about you!” Wes called back.

“Go on,” Buffy urged.

“Anyway, her Watcher was there and he did CPR and revived her. And she’s still a Slayer. So the council isn’t even looking for you. I also don’t think they know that you were even a potential. She asked me about the demons around Seattle because she’d heard something about power changing hands, but I said all I knew was that one faction fought another with the losing side suffering heavy casualties.”

Buffy blew out a breath. “Thanks for letting me know about Faith, that makes me feel a lot better.” And it did. A girl had died, but she’d come back and was doing alright. A weight lifted off her shoulders.

“You did the right thing, blowing the stadium,” Wes said.

“I know, I really do, but it still isn’t an easy thing to deal with. I guess being the…er…a Slayer is always going to be like that.”

“Yes,” Wes said evenly. “Right and easy don’t usually go together.”

“I’m always right and I’m definitely easy.” Spike chuckled as he sat beside her and put an arm around her waist. She elbowed him. “You want Thai for dinner? A neighbor from the next street over gave me a menu for a place he swears is the best ever.”

She shook her head. “Something light, maybe a salad. I think we have stuff in the fridge. My stomach is a little unsettled between moving and it being warm for March.”

“Can do.” He kissed her cheek and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear before standing up to wander into the kitchen.

“What about Umbra?” Keith asked Spike. The kid had been trying to come up with a nickname.

There was the sound of the fridge opening. Her stainless steel behemoth of a fridge. She loved it. “Pro tip: having a Latin nickname is not going to keep you from getting beat up,” Spike said.

Wes sighed and looked at her. “How’s Spike doing with you being the…a Slayer?”

“It hasn’t been too bad. I think it is a little weird for him, understandably. One minute he’ll be talking about us going out and fighting side-by-side, but the next I’ll do something like open the pickle jar myself and he’ll get the oddest look on his face. I think it reminds him that the things I need him for aren’t physical…” She trailed off and Wes scratched his chin. “Um, there’s still some…Ugh, I mean I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Wes smiled. “That’s the truth.”

“If I wasn’t nine months pregnant I could so kick his ass.”

There was a snort from the kitchen.

“But,” she continued, knowing Spike could hear her. “I do need him.” She looked down at her belly. “We need him. I need to know, that in all the world, I will always have one safe place, one person I can rely on, who would never turn me out in the cold.”

Wes’ reply was whispered. “I think you’ve got more than one, but I know your guy in there would cut himself in two before he’d let anything happen to you or your daughters.” Wes rubbed at his temples “And how about you, Buffy? How are you doing with it?”

“I’m okay. It’s cool, I can open pickle jars.” Truthfully, she hadn’t remotely figured out how she felt about it yet. Spike made it sound like it was a lot of walking around and killing bad things. Secretly, she’d started to think that sounded like something she wanted to do. Was itchy for it. Tonight she felt extra restless. If she didn’t have twelve plus pounds of baby strapped to the front of her she’d be out the door, Spike in tow, heading for the nearest place she could slay something.

Wes’ expression let her know he wasn’t quite fooled by her blasé attitude. “I think we got everything squared away. I’m going to get everyone rounded up and leave you two to get settled in.” Awkwardly, he gave her a little hug and stood, heading into the dining room.

Buffy curled her legs under her. She was caught somewhere between the need to move and being dead tired. Spike saw everyone out and locked the door of their new house. Their home. Theirs.

He swung by the kitchen and brought her a salad, topped with plenty of the sliced cucumber she’d been craving lately along with a healthy amount of ranch dressing. The good, thick kind. She munched and he powered on the TV, finding a movie about a race car driver that didn’t have much violence or kids in it, both things that would make them end up talking about life instead of watching the show.

She wasn’t that into it, and before too long she stretched out on the big, comfy couch, using a throw pillow under her head. Spike cuddled up behind her. “Sleepy, kitten?” She nodded and closed her eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

“Can we just stay here instead of going upstairs?”

“We finally have a bed and you want to sleep on the couch?”

“It’s upstairs, and we’re down here.”

He kissed her shoulder.  “Maybe just for a while.”

It wasn’t all that later when she woke back up, desperately needing to pee. She wiggled out from under Spike’s arm and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. Business done, she found she couldn’t stand the thought of lying back down, her restlessness had returned ten-fold. She walked to the big picture window on the front of the house and peeked through the blinds, looking out into the front garden of the property. There were lilac hedges and rose bushes galore, all of them getting ready to put on their spring show. Her belly tightened uncomfortably and she rubbed at it until the feeling faded.

Buffy headed back into the den, pausing to look down at her sleeping boyfriend. He was out cold. Sleeping like the dead. She giggled at her own joke until the tightness in her abdomen returned, making her suck in a startled breath.

It felt different in a way she couldn’t describe. The pain eased again and Buffy knew, without a doubt, that this was the real deal. She was going into labor.

For a second she was paralyzed with fear, but then she sighed and pulled herself together. There was a whole plan. The hospital bag was sitting by the door, along with her shoes and Spike’s boots, ready to go. Buffy climbed the stairs, waited out another contraction, undressed, and got into the shower. The warm water was a blessing and she washed her hair more times than she needed to, just to have an excuse to stay under the spray longer.

Eventually, she had to get out since she was all pruney, and she dressed in her planned going-to-the hospital outfit of a pink t-shirt, nursing bra, and gray maternity sweatpants. She combed out her damp hair and put it up into a high ponytail, hampered only a little by the contractions. It felt a little weird, as she looked at herself in the mirror, to know that the next time she’d be back in her house, she wouldn’t be pregnant anymore.

Turning sideways, Buffy outlined the contours of her belly with a hand. It still startled her just how far it stuck out. She lifted her shirt but had to grab the edge of the counter while another contraction came and went. Ow. Part of her felt a little weird. She’d probably never be pregnant again. Which was both okay with her, two kids were plenty, but also a little sad. It was so final, an end of an era that she’d never imagined even starting.

One more contraction and she went back downstairs. Spike was right where she’d left him. The poor guy must have worn himself out with the moving. She perched on the edge of the couch through a few contractions, watching him sleep and thinking about waking him up, but Fred had said that since this was her first birth and it was twins, Buffy would likely be in labor for at least twelve hours, if not a lot longer. Fred’s advice had been to walk, so Buffy paced up and down the hallway as the minute hand on the clock over the mantle slowly inched forward.

The Persian rugs Spike had insisted on to cover the house’s beautiful hardwood floors seemed like a much better idea than they had at first as she padded back and forth over them in her sock covered feet. She had to stop, put a hand on the wall, and breathe through each contraction.

After an hour or so, the pain had gone from manageable to almost unbearable. It freaking hurt. A lot. Plus, the contractions were coming closer together and less than five minutes apart. She wasn’t sure exactly how long. There was a stopwatch, somewhere, probably still packed in a box.

Another contraction, much deeper and more powerful than the previous ones, hit her. It was intense and accompanied by the need to push.

Her stomach dropped. Oh no.

“Spike!” she cried, hurrying to the couch and leaning over him. “Spike?”

“Can we have kippers for breakfast?” he mumbled and rolled onto his back.

Buffy frowned, then groaned as her belly tightened. Damn, that hurt. “Spike!” she shouted, shaking him.  

“What?” he sat bolt upright. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s time!”

His brow creased. “Time for what?”

“No, it’s time!”

He turned towards her and she could see the second the light bulb went on over his head. “Oh, bloody hell! That time!” He launched himself to his feet. “Okay, bag’s by the door. Keys are on the table. We’re dressed, let me get your shoes—”

 Another contraction was starting, barely a minute after the last one, along with the incredible, undeniable need to push. “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

“Buffy?” He sounded terrified.

“To the hospital. I think…I think Dawn’s coming now.”

Spike looked relieved for two seconds, then panic returned. “What should I do?” He looked utterly lost, then his nose twitched. “Luv, I think your water broke.”

She hadn’t even noticed, though now that he’d said something she became aware of the warm fluid running down her legs and soaking her pants.

The next contraction was mind numbingly painful. “Help,” she whispered.

Spike pursed his lips and sharply nodded his head once.  “Right. Okay, Buffy, you can do this, we can do this. Babies happen all the time.” He squared his shoulders. “First off, I’m going to get you out of those wet pants.”

Buffy nodded mutely as Spike walked her to where she could put a hand on the back of the couch for support. He tugged down her pants and stripped them and her wet socks off. Her legs were shaking. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“That’s alright, luv. You’re doing fine. That’s my brave girl.” He kept up a stream of muttered nonsense as he helped her onto her knees. “Now give me two shakes. I’m not going far.”

She opened her mouth to tell she’d be okay for a second, but instead, to her horror, she puked. It wasn’t a lot and thankfully it mostly landed on his shirt. “Oh god, sorry!”

Spike chuckled. “I’ve survived worse. Don’t feel bad. I’ll be right back.” He went to the downstairs bathroom and she could hear water running. He returned without a shirt, smelling of soap and carrying a cup of water she gratefully rinsed her mouth out with. He knelt in front of her and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her lips.

“I need to push,” she gasped. The contractions were coming one right after another and the pain was a blinding wave of fire that made it impossible to think.

“Hold off just a minute more. I’m just going to touch you, okay? Check how things are going?”

“Okay.”

His fingers were freezing as he pressed them briefly against her thigh before moving upwards. Spike’s eyes got very wide.

“Lamb, you’re going to be having a baby very shortly. Try to not push, I’m going to call down the street and see if Fred’s there.” He took a shaky breath. “I can feel her, our Dawn, she’s got a bit of hair on her noggin.”

Buffy briefly closed her eyes. She was giving birth. It seemed impossible. How could this be her? But Spike was saying her baby was right there, about to come into the world.

Spike kissed her forehead and stood, going to the side table the phone was on. There was no paying attention to what he said as she struggled through another contraction. Then he was back, kneeling in front of her again. Buffy couldn’t help the cry of pain that escaped. She hurt and was completely out of control of her body. This was happening whether she wanted it to or not.

Spike took her hands and placed them on his shoulders. “It’s alright, Buffy. I’m right here. Can you feel me? I’m right with you.” She nodded, even as another whimper escaped her. Spike’s face shifted to that of the demon, but from the fierce look of concentration he was wearing, she didn’t even think he was aware he’d done so. His hands returned to between her legs. The pain was so intense there she couldn’t tell what was going on down there, just that it hurt.

“Contraction,” she gasped.

“Just like Fred has us practicing, alright? Push for a ten count, then relax and breathe.”

Buffy did as she asked, gripping his shoulders tightly. The world had ceased to exist, except for the pain and the man beneath her hands.

“I think she’ll be here with the next one, whether we’re ready or not.” Spike smiled lopsidedly at her. Her fingers left his shoulders and glided up so her palms settled against his cheeks. Leaning forward, she kissed him, until the pain ratcheted up again and her head dropped back. She screamed. There was agony in her back and hips and it felt like she was being split in half.

Abruptly, it ceased. She whipped her head up to see Spike raising a tiny, wiggling, blood and gunk smeared thing from between her legs into his arms. In the next instant, a hearty cry erupted from the little form. Spike was sniffing the baby’s head.

“Dawn,” Buffy whispered and gaped at the perfection of the little being.

“Look at her, luv, our girl, our Dawnie.” His demon features receded and tears rolled down his cheeks. Buffy swiped at her own tears, before reaching out a hand to touch one of Dawn’s waving fists. “I love you so much,” Spike whispered to the baby, cuddling her tight against him.

Buffy swayed and had to grip Spike’s arm for support. The contractions had eased a little, but she had no doubt that they’d be back very shortly.

She gazed at her daughter and love overwhelmed her. Buffy had been worried about that. What if she didn’t love them right away? Fred had assured her that it could be normal, especially if the birth was hard or had complications, but she felt herself fall head over heels for the red-faced, wrinkly, screaming little girl cradled in her boyfriend’s arms.

There was the sound of a key in the latch and the house’s door opened.

Spike was instantly back in vamp face and growling loudly at the intrusion, but it was only Wes and Fred.

Buffy gasped as a contraction wrapped around her, driving a sharp point into her back. Anne was on the way.

****

Wes knew his jaw was hanging open. Spike’s call had awakened him and Fred from a deep slumber and they’d rushed to put clothes on and hurry down the street to Buffy and Spike’s house. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the scene in front of him wasn’t it.

Buffy was kneeling beside the couch, naked from the waist down, with blood on her thighs. Wes quickly looked away. Her pants were in a wet pile to one side.

Spike, shirtless and with fangs in place, had a tiny body in his arms. One that was crying angrily. For a terrible second, Wes thought the worst, with the blood and a demon…but then he shook his head to re-orientate himself. Spike was holding his newborn daughter after helping Buffy through the delivery. It looked like he’d been crying, for heaven’s sake.

Fred gasped delightedly. “Look at you two! You already got Dawn here!”

Spike nuzzled the little girl, but Buffy wailed, and Spike’s attention snapped back to her.

Fred dropped the bag she was carrying to the floor and fished out a blanket. Walking to the couple, she touched Spike’s shoulder and helped him wrap Dawn.

“Wes, bring a set of umbilical clamps and sterile scissors from my bag, please,” Fred said over her shoulder.

Relieved to have something to do, he quickly found what she wanted and handed it over to her. Fred efficiently clamped the cord. “Do you want to cut?” she asked Spike, but he shook his head and Fred did it herself. “Buffy, I’d like to check your cervix and the position of Anne, okay?” She pushed a little on Spike’s shoulder. “I’m going to have Spike move for just a–“

Wes saw what was happening before Fred did. He grabbed her shirt and yanked her back.

Spike’s fangs snapped closed on empty air.

Fred was trembling as Wes massaged her shoulders. “Honey, we’re not going to try and separate the two highly emotionally charged supernatural creatures right now, okay?” She nodded.

There was the noise of water hitting the floor and Buffy gave a pained groan.

“What was that?” Wes asked, alarmed.

“It’s fine, the water breaking on the second twin,” Fred said. “Um, Buffy, while you deliver Anne, can we see Dawn?”

There was a moment as Spike and Buffy looked at each other, but then Buffy’s eyes closed and she hissed, her face contorting with agony as a powerful contraction gripped her.

“Here, Watcher,” Spike said roughly, giving Dawn a kiss before handing her to a stunned Wes. Wes looked down at the little girl. She hardly weighed anything, and while she’d stopped hollering, she still looked less than happy.

“Your sister will be right along, no reason be worried,” Wes told her as he ran a finger over her mop of brown hair. He could hardly swallow around the lump in his throat.

Buffy screamed through gritted teeth.

Fred, appearing unconcerned, though Wes supposed hearing women in labor yell was more of an everyday occurrence for her than for him, took Dawn and checked her over while cleaning her up. She wrapped the baby in a clean blanket and put a pink cap on her head with ‘Dawn’ stitched on the front in gold thread. She handed the baby back to Wes, who cuddled the now sleeping little girl against him.

“I’m going to call work,” she said in Buffy and Spike’s general direction, “and have them send a non-emergency ambulance. I think everyone is going to be just fine, but you need to go in, Buffy, to record the births and have a more official health check for the babies and you.”

There was no reply as Fred pulled out her mobile phone.

Buffy was leaning against Spike, her arms around his shoulders and her hands clasped at the nape of his neck. Her hair was dark with sweat and she was shuddering.

Spike was rubbing her back. “There’s a strong girl.”

“…precipitous labor…” Fred was saying into her mobile.

“I think—” Buffy’s words turned into a scream. Spike’s hands left her back and went between her legs.

“Now,” Spike barked. “Now, Slayer. Push, now, now…”

Buffy made a noise Wes didn’t have words to describe and then Spike was lifting a second infant, which gave a healthy wail, into his arms. He lifted the tiny body to his face, nuzzling it.

Fred was immediately beside Buffy, helping her sit so her back was against the couch. Wes looked down at Dawn before he saw anything he really didn’t need to.

“Here’s a blanket,” Fred said to Buffy in a soothing voice. “And I’ll get one for baby Anne. Spike, sit beside Buffy.” The vampire did as he was told, still holding his daughter, and Buffy slumped over to put her head on his shoulder. Fred cut Anne’s cord and swaddled her, taking her into one arm and picking up Spike’s hand and putting it on Buffy’s belly. “Rub,” she showed him the motion, “it’ll help.”

Buffy’s face contorted in pain.

“Something’s wrong, Fred.” Spike sounded scared. “She’s still hurting.”

“She’s okay,” Fred said, her voice calm. “She has to deliver the afterbirth.”

Wes was amazed by how easily Fred handled everything. By the time the ambulance arrived, Anne was clean and had her hat on. Spike was dressed and had the hospital bag slung over his shoulder. The afterbirth had arrived without issue, and Buffy was cleaned and dressed. She was sitting gingerly on the couch, Dawn in her arms, with Spike beside her, cradling Anne. Both Slayer and vampire looked absolutely stunned.

It made Wes smile. Spike and Buffy had just become a family of four. Maybe not a conventional family, but one where there’d never be a lack of love.

****

Spike was doing his best to not have a meltdown. Buffy was in her hospital room, having received a clean bill of health, but his daughters had been carted off to the nursery to be checked over. Buffy, exhausted, had sent him to keep an eye on the girls.

Needing something warm in his stomach, he dropped a few quarters from his duster’s pocket into the coffee vending machine for a black coffee.  It was too bad he couldn’t get blood, what with it being a sodding hospital and all, but the coffee would do for now.

Cup in hand, he went to stand outside the nursery windows. In the back, the girls were being fussed over. His demon was antsy at not being within arm’s length. It was fretting terribly.

A guy who looked about as wrung out as Spike felt and who was wearing a pair of old jeans, slippers, and a Mariner’s cap over his mussed hair, walked up to stand next to Spike. “Which one’s yours?” he asked.

Spike grinned. “Twin girls, in the back.”

“Twins, wow. C-section?”

“No, the good ole’ fashion way. Though my girl was in a hurry and I did the delivering at home.”

The guy’s brows shot sky-high. “That’s…wow.” They silently looked through the glass for a few minutes. “They look healthy,” he finally said.

Spike’s chest puffed out. “They’re beauties, both of ‘em.” Belatedly, he remembered his manners. “What about you? Which one’s yours?”

“The little dark-haired boy on the end. It only took fifteen hours of labor to get him here. My wife threw two cups of ice and a book at me.”

Spike chuckled. “I got puked on.”

There was another moment of silence, this one feeling very much like two comrades in arms reflecting on a recently hard won battle.

Anne and Dawn were wrapped back up by the nurses and put into a double bassinet. “That’s my cue,” Spike said and clapped the guy beside him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

Spike hurried around the corner, catching up to the girls right before the nurse wheeled them into Buffy’s room. Fred was there with Buffy, holding a camera.

“Time to make them official!” Fred squealed. “Buffy’s finished filling out the paperwork.”

The nurse made sure Buffy didn’t need anything before leaving while Fred arranged the cards with the babies’ info on them above their heads.

“Welcome to the world, Dawn Willow Pratt, 6 pounds, seven ounces, and twenty inches long, and you as well Miss Anne Tara Pratt, 6 pounds, three ounces, and nineteen and a half inches.” Fred snapped several pictures of the girls.

Spike’s mind caught up to what she’d said and he had to set the coffee cup down before he dropped it. His gaze went to Buffy’s. “You gave them my last name?” He’d always expected them to be named Summers. He could hardly believe she’d want to.

“They’re yours, too,” Buffy said softly. “I just left the part on the birth certificate about their…sperm donor blank. Wes got the papers from Riley, filled out as promised. Now he has no claim to them at all.”

“That’s wonderful.” Something eased in his chest. It was hard for him, even after meeting the berk, to believe that Riley wouldn’t want to know the girls. Having the papers gave Buffy a legal leg to stand on if Riley should show up demanding visitation.

“Are you going to officially adopt them?” Fred asked, looking at Spike.

“I want to.” His voice was hoarse. “But I’m a more than century old vampire. I have no legal existence…I…I…I can’t get married, or rent a car…”

“Is that why you’ve never asked?” Buffy said, her lips raised in a half smile.

“Erm, I got a page.” Fred was looking at her beeper, though Spike didn’t remember hearing it buzz. “I’ll be back in a while.” She quickly exited and Spike sat down heavily beside Buffy.

He took her hand in his. “Would you want to?”

“Is that a really crappy proposal?” She sounded mad but appeared to be fighting a grin.

“Oh, sodding hell.” He slid to one knee beside the bed and took her hand. “Buffy Anne Summers, will you marry me?”

“Of course…you idiot.”

“Is that a really crappy yes?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Mr. William Henry Pratt, I accept your proposal of marriage.” She tugged on his hand and he leapt to his feet, leaning over the bed to kiss her. After a few moments, she leaned back against the pillow. “And Keith, or whatever he’s calling himself now, let me know I’m now in charge of an operation that forges papers for demons, so we’ll have no problem making it so you can rent a car.” She emphasized the last three words and he made a face at her.

Right as he was about to deliver a brilliant comeback, there were two little cries.

Immediately, he was on his feet and scooping his girls up. “I think it’s time for breakfast.”

Buffy undid the tie of the hospital gown and pulled it down. She bit her lip. “Do you think I can do this?” she asked.

“What? Feed them? I have no doubt.” He helped Buffy arrange the pillows and get the girls in the right position.

Dawn eagerly latched on, but Anne, who was smaller and blonder than her sister, was having a harder time.

Spike leaned over to whisper in his daughter’s ear. She stopped fussing and he guided her little mouth onto Buffy’s nipple. This time Anne took it and began nursing, closing her eyes in obvious enjoyment.

“You really are magic,” Buffy said.

He sat beside her on the bed and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know it.”

“And so humble.”

“Flatterer.”

He stroked her shoulder and watched his daughters work on filling their stomachs. “This is the best day ever.”

“Ever?” Buffy sounded amused. “What about the barf?”

“I forgive the puking, it was for a good cause. So, yes, luv: ever.”


	38. Full

 

I do keep a date with you

                -Nirvana, “About A Girl”

****

The new house’s walk-in closet was still intimidating, though so far she hadn’t gotten lost and ended up in Narnia.  Buffy was clutching a towel around her and staring at the inexplicable racks of clothing she now owned. The house itself felt far too quiet and empty as Willow and Tara had taken the twins to their place for the evening. It was making Buffy feel uneasy not to sense them close by, and if she was uneasy, Spike must be flipping out.

It’s taken her more than a week after coming home from the hospital with the girls for Buffy to figure out Spike wasn’t sleeping. She was so exhausted that she’d drop off any and everywhere, often waking up in bed, Spike having carried her there. But he was never beside her. She always found him standing guard over Dawn and Anne as they slept in their cribs, or holding one or the other—sometimes both—and singing or babbling to them as they stared in their cross-eyed baby way at him, enthralled.

Eventually, he’d gotten kind of weird and started to smell funky. Buffy had almost had to bodily push him into the shower and then the bed. She had sat vigil, along with the girls, until he’d fallen asleep. He’d slept for nearly twenty-four hours and had woken in a blind panic, calling hysterically for her. Buffy had deposited a napping Anne in his arms and Dawn on the bed beside him, assured him the world had not ended while he’d rested, and gone downstairs to heat him some blood. He’d been slightly more sensible after that.

Not that caring for two infants was a walk in the park. Buffy had no idea how they would have done it without the love and support of her friends. They did grocery shopping and made meals, cleaned, and Keith—or Shadow, as he was calling himself these days, at least when he wasn’t home with his gran—along with Dalton had been steady organizing the demon underworld she now controlled. She wanted to make a community that was safe, with the kinds of resources for demons—from legal representation to mortgages—that the human world often denied them. Her constituents were responding enthusiastically. Once she was ready to get her feet under her as a Slayer, she already had multiple leads on vamp nests and not-so-nice demons flop houses to target.

Today, however, hadn’t been about anything business related.

She’d gotten married.

Willow and Tara had arranged the whole thing since Buffy was still overwhelmed with being a new mother. They’d outdone themselves. This was also the day, probably not so coincidently, that Fred had cleared Buffy for having sex. She suspected that Fred had fudged some stuff, as Slayer healing should have meant Buffy would be ready to go in far less time than six weeks, but everything had been such a whirl with the babies that having an excuse to not worry about relationship stuff had been a blessing.

Buffy ran her thumb over the thin, plain, white-gold band of the ring finger of her left hand. For the obvious reason they hadn’t had a church wedding, just stood in front of a justice of the peace and said their self-written vows (‘to death do us part’ really didn’t work, or the obeying part. Ha. Fat chance). She’d promised lots of love and cherishing though. Spike had floored her with lines that he’d obviously slaved over, full of love and devotion and more esoteric things about honoring the beauty of her heart and effulgence of her spirit.

She was going to have to ask him over dinner what that meant. If she could ever choose an outfit.  Her wedding dress had been a simple, knee-length, pink gown with cap sleeves. Anya had pressed a small bouquet of pink roses into hands, insisting every bride should carry flowers.

“Should I expect some time this century?” Spike asked from the closet door. He was leaning against the jamb, still in his dark-gray suit and looking as devilishly handsome as always. Desire, hot and rich, swept through her.

“Do you really want to go out?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “I believe it was quite a bit of work to get everything from the babysitting to the reservations at the Space Needle arranged.”

She let the towel drop.

“Sod plans.” Spike was on her in the next instant, his mouth devouring hers. His hands slid down her back…oh! She was pushed right up against him. His dress shirt was silky against her nipples and the steel line of his erection was pressed against her belly. It was sensory overload and she was helpless to do anything but wiggle and gasp.

Eyes swirling yellow for a second, Spike growled and grabbed her ass, lifting her up so she had to wrap her legs around his waist. His mouth never left hers as he carried her to the bed. She clung to him as he kicked off his shoes and climbed in. He paused once she was lying under him with her head on the pillows.

“Buffy,” he whispered and lowered his still-clothed body until he was completely pressed against her. Her legs were wide apart and he was ensconced between her thighs, his erection a hard bulge in his suits pants. She rubbed wantonly against him, reveling in his weight pressing her against the mattress.

But it wasn’t enough, she needed more. Putting her hands on his chest she pushed so that, face confused, he lifted up. Grabbing the open collar of his dress shirt, she yanked. Buttons went flying everywhere, scattering over the bed and pinging into the wall. Spike dropped back down, and…oh, god…the feel of his skin against hers.

She arched her back, pushing her breasts even harder against his chest. His mouth claimed hers again and their hips surged together. She was melting under him. Her hands scrabbled over his suit jacket, trying to pull him closer. She needed more of him, all him.

Now.

Her fingers worked their way between their heaving bodies and found his belt buckle. The metal scraped at her skin as she undid it and pushed it aside. The suit’s trousers fastened differently than his regular jeans and with a frustrated growl she gave up on undoing them and simply shredded the front of his pants, pushing them down just far enough to get to his dick.

Spike groaned into her mouth as she wrapped a fist around his cock and guided it to her opening. With a single thrust, he buried himself to the root in her channel. Her head fell back and she could hardly breathe from the feeling of completion him being deep inside generated. Spike was kissing her throat as she luxuriated in the way his shaft was stretching her inner walls.

Buffy had missed being like this with him, had missed the way he made her feel like she was the center of the universe.  And it’d never been like this. He was surrounding her, filling her, consuming her. Without the girls in the way they could be so much closer.

Buffy went still and her eyes flew open. Oh god. She’d given birth. What if she was all weird down there now?

“Spike?” she said, pushing at his shoulder.

He raised his head and peered at her through heavily-lidded eyes. “Huh?”

“Spike, does it feel alright?”

“I feel fine,” he mumbled and tried to kiss her again, but she moved her head to evade him.

“No, I mean…with my see-you-next-Tuesday? Does it feel okay?”

Spike frowned and looked completely befuddled. “Huh?”

“I had babies!” she said, exasperated. “Did it change my vagina much?”

Spike’s brows drew together. “Was it supposed to?”

“I don’t know! I’m asking you if it feels alright!”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No!”

Spike thrust once, moaning softly with the action. “My Buffy.” He seemed to lose his train of thought and crashed his lips back into hers as his hips found a rolling rhythm. Buffy gave up as her mind yielded to her body. Obviously, nothing was wrong and she needed to quit worrying. She brought her fingers to his face, caressing him as he plowed into her.

Her pelvis lifted to meet him each time his cock plunged into her and she squeezed her muscles as he drew back, not wanting him to go. Her legs were wrapped around him, holding him tight.

She was gasping, writhing, but…she could take more. Wanted more.

Trailing her tongue across his cheek, she was momentarily distracted by his earlobe and paused to suck on it, making him shudder before she recalled her intention. “Harder,” she breathed into his ear.

Spike grunted, braced his knees, and gave her what she asked for. Her heels dug into his ass, spurring him on. The slam of his cock into her with each thrust was heaven. Her fingertips dug into his back through his suit.

Buffy’s nipples were aching points and she undulated her entire body wildly, rubbing them desperately against Spike’s chest. Relief, nearly orgasmic in its intensity, blossomed on one side. Warm wetness ran between her and Spike and Buffy realized her milk had let down from that breast. Darn it, she’d even nursed the girls before sending them with Willow.

Buffy found she wasn’t even that embarrassed, it felt too good.

Never stopping the motion of his hips, Spike pushed himself up on one hand. The other brushed strands of hair out of her face. His eyes were locked on her breast and its steady spray of milk. “Let me drink from you,” he said, voice deep and hoarse.

For a half second, she paused, but then firmly pushed away the voice saying it was weird or wrong. He drank blood, the only difference here was that what he’d be taking was meant to be given. She was a mother and her body sustained life. Buffy cupped her other breast, which was still aching, and offered it to him.

Spike’s cool mouth fastened over her breast and sucked. It was nothing like one of the girls. The rush of pleasure as her milk let down whited out her brain. She clutched at the back of his head as he moaned and drank. “More…harder,” she begged, not quite sure what she needed.

A cold tingle shot up her spine and she looked down to find Spike in his demon face, his tongue now rough on the underside of her breast. Snarling, Spike pistoned his hips frantically, driving his cock impossibly deep with each thrust. Buffy’s body rose to meet each plunge, and she gloried in the slap of his body against hers.

There was a loud crack and the earth moved under them. It took her a few seconds to realize the bed had broken. The mattress was listing to one side, but it wasn’t enough to make her, or Spike, stop.

She came, thighs shaking as she bucked. It went on and on, bliss ricocheting between her breasts and pussy. Buffy keened her pleasure and the fabric of Spike’s suit coat and shirt gave way beneath her fingers as she clawed at him until she was able the flatten her palms against the bare skin of his back.

Panting, she’d barely come down when she went right back up. Her inner walls tightened around Spike’s pounding cock and she came again with a loud moan as he switched breasts and sucked the last of her milk from her. The orgasm was bright and hot, nearly painful as she wrapped herself around her lover...her husband.

Spike, groaning, let go of her breast and pressed his face into her throat. She could feel the bumps and ridges of his forehead and loved each one. His rhythm became uncoordinated and he braced his feet on the bed and thrust into her with a ferocity she knew she wouldn’t have been able to take before being called. With a harsh grunt and a last, deep plunge of his cock, he came. His shaft jerked as he spilled his load and he was gasping her name.

At last, he stilled, sagging against her and she cradled his head against her shoulder.

With a sad creaking noise, the other side of the bed frame gave way and they were level again, just now with the mattress mostly on the floor. The headboard was at a funny angle but didn’t seem to be about to drop on them.

“We broke the bed,” Buffy said.

Spike looked up, then around, finally frowning at the headboard. “I guess?”

She smiled and patted his back as his human features returned.

“How much time left before the girls get home?” he asked. Buffy glanced towards the alarm clock on her nightstand, only it wasn’t there. Not just the clock, the entire nightstand. Gently, she pushed Spike to the side and he slid from her body and rolled off her with a groan. Scooting to the edge of the bed, she found the nightstand on its side, the lamp shattered. The alarm clock looked unscathed but was too far away for her to reach.

“We broke my lamp,” she said as she attempted to stand, her jelly legs supporting her only on the second try.

“Mine too.” Spike was standing on his side of the bed and looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “And I’m not even going to mention how much this bloody suit cost.” Said suit was hanging off him in tatters. Uh…oops.

She shrugged and retrieved the alarm clock. “We still have a couple of hours.”

“Good,” Spike drawled. Buffy watched, mesmerized, as he pulled the remains of his suit off. Her fingers twitched.

“Yeah, good,” she echoed.

Spike stalked around the end of the bed until he was standing before her. Renewed lust was already coursing through her.

He raised a hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before gently sliding his hand down so his palm was against the side of her neck. “Slayer, wife… I love you, Buffy.”

Her toes curled with happiness.

“I love you too, husband.”

With a growl, he lifted her, carried her to one of the room’s dressers and set her ass on the edge. He flattened his palms on her back and kissed her, mouth once more hungry and demanding.

She wove the fingers of one hand into his hair, which was quickly becoming a riot of curls, and stroked his renewed hard-on with the other. Hooking her heels around the backs of his thighs, she pulled him closer and positioned his cock so all it took was a twist of his hips and he was back inside her.

The dresser creaked ominously as it slammed against the wall.

At this rate, they weren’t going to have any furniture left.

Spike thrust relentlessly into her and she quickly forgot things like furniture existed.

****

Willow walked down the street, tiny Dawn in her arms. Tara was walking beside them, carrying Anne. Both twins were fast asleep. They’d been fun to take care of, but Willow was glad to be returning them to their parents because it’d also been exhausting.

“Borrowing babies is fun,” Tara said, echoing Willow’s thoughts. “But so is giving them back.”

“I’m good with being an auntie,” Willow said. “Though if you want kids, I’d be open to talking about it.”

Tara shook her head. “I don’t think that’s me. I’m good with our kitten.”

Upon moving in almost the first thing Willow and Tara had done was adopt a kitten from the shelter. It was an itty-bitty tabby that had an extra-loud purr and a love of sunny spots.

“I don’t think it’s me either. Though I’m glad we can babysit.”

“Me too.” Tara looked towards Buffy and Spike’s house and squinted. “What are they doing?”

Willow had no idea. Both were dressed in regular jeans and t-shirts and were carrying large pieces of something from inside the house to the dumpster set up outside Lorne’s place, which was across the street. He’d wanted the only house on the street that’d needed extensive renovating, which Dalton was helping him with. That some of the renovations were very vampire friendly, like tightly closing shutters, no one was surprised at. Nor was anyone suspicious about the fact that one of the upstairs bedrooms had morphed into a library.

Buffy smiled as Willow met her at the front gate and eagerly took her sleeping daughter into her arms. “Mommy missed you!” she cooed to the little girl.

Spike, carrying several broken drawers, smiled as he walked past.

“Uh, what’s going on? How was dinner?” Willow asked.

Buffy turned beet red. “We didn’t really make it to dinner.”

Willow stifled a giggle. “Did you two jump each other the minute you were alone?”

“Something like that.” Buffy’s face was entirely sheepish.

“That doesn’t explain why you guys are, what? Cleaning out a room or something?” Tara asked.

Spike, having tossed away the drawers, took Anne from Tara. He looked almost bashful. “We might have broken some furniture.” Studiously, he looked down as he arranged Anne so she was lying belly down along his forearm.

“Broken furniture…” Willow trailed off as she got it. “Erm, anyways, the girls were wonderful and our night was just fine.”

“Thanks for watching them,” Buffy said.

“Anytime.” Tara was grinning.

Willow glanced at the dumpster. “Hey, does this mean more shopping this weekend?”

Buffy nodded enthusiastically. “The bedroom set actually came with the house, so I’m not that sad to see it go. Totally shopping on Saturday.”

Spike groaned.

“You don’t have to come,” Buffy said and he perked up.

“I was planning on teaching Clem and Xander the finer points of real football.” Spike was tenderly stroking Anne’s back.

“Get Xander to reinforce the new bed, before…y’know,” Tara suggested.

“Bloody good idea that, thank you.”

Dawn started fussing. “Time to get them inside and fed,” Buffy said.

“Night!” Willow waved as Buffy and Spike made their way towards their front door, leaning close to each other.

Tara slipped an arm around Willow’s waist and squeezed her hip. “Do you think we should test our bed for soundness?”

“You’re the best girlfriend ever.”

Tara smiled. “I know.”

****

The radio was playing softly behind the bar and Willow hummed along as she did lunch prep. Technically, The Sun Thief was open, but there were only two old demons sitting in a booth in the corner, nursing cups of black coffee and arguing over events that’d happened forty years ago.

The bar’s outer door opened and closed and Willow looked up as a middle-aged woman tentatively made her way towards where Willow was standing. The woman looked a lot lost and a little scared. It wasn’t very often that random people managed to find their way into the place.

“Can I help you?” Willow asked.

The woman clutched her purse tighter with both hands and nodded. “Um, I was looking for Buffy Summers? Does she work here?”   

“No Buffy Summers here,” Willow said, suddenly wary. The woman appeared innocent enough, but when a stranger came in asking about one of the most powerful people in Seattle—and your best friend—it paid to be cautious. Willow silently sent a mental call to Tara and Lorne, appraising them of the situation. Being a witch was really handy.

Willow could see how the power could be addictive, but Tara was always there to ground Willow and remind her not to get carried away. Willow had no idea how she’d been so lucky as to find the absolutely perfect girlfriend.

“I don’t like peanut butter and chocolate together,” Tara said, appearing out of the back and moving to stand beside Willow. The older woman’s face, which had fallen when Willow had said Buffy Summers didn’t work at the bar, became downright befuddled.

Willow patted Tara’s arm. “That makes you weird, honey, but you’re still perfect for me,” Willow said and Tara blushed.

“Um—” the woman interrupted. “I was told Buffy Summers worked here? Did she get a new job? Could you tell me where to find her?”

“Who told you she worked here?” Willow asked, narrowing her eyes at the woman, who blanched.

“S-s-she did,” the woman stammered.

Confused, Willow glanced at Tara. She appeared puzzled too, but then her face smoothed out and she squeezed Willow’s elbow.

“Are you Joyce?” Tara asked softly.

The woman gave a tiny smile. “Yes, I’m Joyce. Joyce Summers. I’m Buffy’s mother. Do you know where she is?”

Tara grinned and Willow relaxed. Now that Joyce had identified herself, Willow could see the family resemblance.  

“Willow’s right,” Tara said. “There’s not a Buffy Summers that works here, but there’s a Buffy Pratt.”

“Buffy…Pratt?” Joyce tripped over the second word.

Tara twisted and grabbed a framed photo from one of the bar’s many shelves and handed it to Joyce, who accepted it. She looked down at the photo for a few seconds while frowning, and then her hands began to shake. “Oh…oh, she married him. They got married.” She covered her mouth with the fingers of one hand. “My baby got married and I wasn’t there.” Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

The photo had been taken on the steps of the courthouse. Buffy in her pink dress and Spike in his suit—he’d grumbled endlessly about the ‘sodding thing’ right up until Buffy had melted over seeing him in it—Her arm was around his waist and his was slung over her shoulders. They were both grinning ear to ear. Tara and Willow were standing on either side of the happy couple, cradling the twin that was their respective namesake. Xander, Wes, Fred, and Anya were there as well. In the back, Dalton was in the shadows on the courthouse’s portico. Lorne was the one who’d taken the picture.

The justice of the peace was obviously not used to quite so many people crowding in to witness a marriage, especially ones that cheered so loudly, though he had cooed over the babies and declared them the cutest things to ever grace the courthouse.

Joyce wiped at her eyes. “Those are my granddaughters?” she asked, voice thick.  

“Dawn and Anne,” Willow said, pointing them out. “They’re in the back with their parents. Do you want to see them?”

“Please. I’d very much like to, if that’s okay.” Joyce handed the photo back to Tara. “How old are they now?” Joyce asked as Willow walked around the end of the bar.

“Four months,” Willow replied. She led Joyce towards the back of The Sun Thief. “We got them these cute little seat-things to sit in and they’ve really got their laugh down. Both of them think it’s really funny when Daddy is the one that goes tumbling, so he lets Buffy throw him a lot more than he would otherwise, so don’t be surprised if that’s what we walk in on.”

Joyce’s expression was confused as Willow opened the door to the training room.

Wes was seated at a table, the girls sitting in their little chairs on top of it. They were avidly watching their parents, who were sparring in the middle of the room. Spike threw a punch that made Joyce gasp, but Buffy easily dodged and countered it. A few more blows later, Spike retreated a couple yards before rushing Buffy, who grabbed him and flipped him over her head so he crashed onto his back on the floor. Both twins laughed their adorable baby laughs and Joyce’s eyes flew to the table before returning to where Buffy had straddled Spike and was trying to land blows to his face, but he blocked her and somehow hooked his arms under her legs and, heaving his entire body, sent her flying. Buffy twisted and landed on her feet, but Spike was already on his and they were circling each other again.

“Very good, Buffy, though I hope in a real-life situation you would have remembered to bring your stake into play,” Wes said.

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Buffy?” Joyce asked. “What are you doing?”

Both Slayer and Vampire’s stances relaxed as they straightened and turned towards the door.

“Mom?” Buffy’s mouth was open in shock. Spike gave her a brief hug and kissed her cheek before sitting on the other side of the table from Wes. Anne held her pudgy arms out to Spike and he immediately took her out of her chair and plopped the baby on his lap, where she burbled happily.

Joyce set her purse beside the door and walked to Buffy, hesitating only a moment before wrapping her in a hug.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Buffy said.

“I’m sorry it took so long. I was scared…but I divorced him. I…I did what I should have done years ago. I chose you. I have an apartment of my own now and everything.”

“Were there any problems with, um, Hank?” Buffy asked.

Her mother pursed her lips. “A little, but this nice young police officer came and helped. Actually, he’d just transferred to Enumclaw from Seattle and said he knew you?” 

“Officer Knight, he’s a good guy,” Buffy said. Willow knew Buffy had pulled some of her new strings as part of the demon underworld to get him transferred to the sleepy little town, and had felt a little weird about it afterwards, at least until Rowena had called to chat and gushed excitedly about how she could see Jorge so much more often now and that she was thinking about opening her own little café and bookshop beside her dad’s shop because the space had just become available. Buffy had given Willow the low down later and even confessed she was looking into “investing” in the building both shops would be in. Her friend couldn’t help herself when it came to trying to make other people’s lives better.

“Do you want to meet your granddaughters?” Spike asked from where he was sitting.

Buffy took her mother’s hand as Joyce nodded.

****

Spike stood as Buffy and her mum approached. When Joyce didn’t seem to know what to do, he passed Anne to her.

“Oh,” Joyce said, gazing down into the smiling face of her granddaughter. “You’re so big! And lovely. Buffy, they’re beautiful.”

“They are,” Buffy said, picking up Dawn. Wes rose and nodded to Spike before leaving with Willow and shutting the door behind him.

“Are you two…involved in martial arts?” Joyce asked, looking between Buffy and Spike.

Buffy laughed and Spike chuckled. “Something like that,” he said.

“We train here a couple of days a week, but have a business to run the rest of the time, as well as, uh, community duties.” Buffy snuggled Dawn, who was staring at Joyce and her sister.

“Business?” Joyce asked. “And do you live here, in the city?”

“We’ve got a place in Alki Point,” Spike said, unable to resist the temptation to brag. “Enough bedrooms that the girls will each have their own when they’re older.”

Joyce’s eyes had gone round. “A house?”

“Three-thousand square feet, not counting the basement. Lovely gardens front and back.” Spike couldn’t help smirking.

Joyce’s mouth was hanging open.

“Dawn and Anne were born there,” Buffy said. “I was kind of quick on the draw and we didn’t make it to the hospital.”

Joyce’s expression became somber. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“No biggie, we have lots of friends that made dinners and cleaned and stuff.” Buffy sounded calm, but Spike knew her better than that.

“Not the same as your mum, luv.”

Buffy looked down as Dawn bounced in her arms.

“Honey,” Joyce said. “I know you might not want it, but I’d like to help now, and get to know my grown-up daughter, her husband, and my granddaughters.”

Buffy tilted her head. “There’s parts you might not like.”

“I remember,” said Joyce as she glanced at Spike, but then she squared her shoulders, looking a great deal like her daughter as she did so. “I want to be a part of your life, Buffy. Whatever that takes.”

“Alright,” Buffy said. Spike could tell she was thrilled. Handing Dawn to Spike, she took Anne from her mother’s arms. The girls were getting fussy and were going to need to be fed soon, so Spike motioned for Buffy to sit and pulled a pink nursing pillow out from under the table. Buffy settled onto the chair and Spike helped her arrange the pillow and twins.

“You better sit down, Joyce.” Spike gestured to an empty chair. “This is going to take some explaining.”

Joyce lowered herself slowly as Spike assisted Buffy to get both girls feeding. It always seemed to go smoother when he helped. Anne sometimes had problems latching on correctly and Dawn would get so busy looking around she’d forget to eat. Buffy didn’t have enough hands to fix both problems at once, but if he laid his fingers on their little heads and chided them about having their nummies, they’d both settle down and nurse just fine.

It always made him feel ten feet tall.

Once the girls were happily eating, Spike kissed Buffy’s forehead and went to have a smoke, more to give Buffy and her mum some space to talk than because he needed the fag.

The alley behind the bar was as grimy as ever, but overhead the sky he could see between buildings was a bright blue ribbon.

“Hey, Dru,” he said, looking at the sky. “You wouldn’t believe where I’ve ended up.” He took a deep drag on his cig and slowly blew the smoke out. “It’s been more than a year since you died, but missing you doesn’t hurt like it used to. I’m not really sorry for that. I still love you, princess, but I got a family now. Married a Slayer. Fancy that.” He could almost hear Drusilla’s dark laughter. “Yeah, I’m as much love’s bitch as ever, but this one’s worth it. Our daughters are worth it. I hope wherever you are that you’re okay with me being happy, pet.”

For a brief second, he could feel her cool hands brush his cheek, but then a breeze carrying the salt scent of the Sound with it blew down the alley, banging the lid of a dumpster closed, and her ghost was gone.  

He smoked the cig down to its butt before smashing it out in the bucket, lined with sand, that was his ashtray. With one last, lingering look at the sky, he walked back inside the bar, returning to his family. As a vampire, Spike was used to the empty ache of hunger, the desire to always want more. Only he couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed anything besides what he already had.

His heart was full.  

_~FIN~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be concluded in the epilogues


	39. Epilogue 1: PB&J

 

_Four Years Later_

Grey clouds were muting the sunset, but it wasn’t actually drizzling, so Spike had taken the girls outside to play in the front yard while Buffy banged around in the kitchen, humming pop songs and throwing together dinner. Probably spaghetti, since he was fairly certain he could smell marinara.

It was October and the trees on their street were already putting on their fall show. Xander was out in front of his house, the motor of his leaf blower whirring as he battled the endless piles of leaves the huge maple in his front yard was constantly dropping. Anya, pregnant with their second child, told a rather riveting version of the never-ending battle with the deciduous tree. Spike had suggested once they cut it down to be done with it, but both Xander and Anya had looked horrified. The damn tree was nearly a family member.

Across the way, Lorne was belting out something by Sinatra, and Spike waved at Fred as she drove by in her Subaru, having just wrapped up her shift at the clinic. She was officially Mrs. Wyndham-Price now, and rumor had it she and Wes were working on starting a family.

There was a faint tinkle of wind chimes from the witches’ house.

All was well.

Spike knew it was a little silly but he felt responsible for keeping his adopted family safe. His demon side’s penchant for violence was well satisfied by the patrols he and Buffy went on several nights a week, along with raids on further flung hotbeds of evil that the extensive underground demon network they’d cultivated tipped them off to, but Spike had found it’d developed a protective streak a mile wide.

Every night, before he could sleep, he’d go out and prowl one last time up and down the quiet street, ensuring everything was as it should be. Only then could he rest. Buffy, bless her, never gave him the ribbing he bloody well deserved for it. He usually tried to pass it off as having a smoke before bed, but she knew better.

There was a high-pitched laugh from behind him and Spike swung around and crouched down. “Is that a little girl I smell? This grizzly bear is going to eat her all up!” Anne, wearing a pink dress with her blonde hair done up in pigtails with pink bows, squealed and took off running. She was the girlier of the two, always setting up for tea parties that Spike gladly suffered through. Especially now that she and her sister had started preschool and were gone in the mornings. Spike was dreading next year and actual kindergarten.

Dawn, her straight brown hair flying behind her, crashed into his leg. “Bad grizzly bear!” she hollered. Spike swung her up off the ground and tickled her mercilessly. She was in a t-shirt and jeans, and while Anne looked more like her mum, it was Dawn who was just like her attitude-wise. Buffy and Dawn were going to butt heads when Dawn got older, as they were far too much alike.

He set Dawn down and she took off like a shot.

Anne ran by, trying to stay out of arm’s reach of the “grizzly bear” but Spike darted forward and caught her, swinging her around in a circle while she giggled.

“Freeze, monster, and let the child go,” a voice Spike didn’t recognize boomed out from by his front gate. The click of a crossbow bolt sliding into place was unmistakable. The sound was obscene, here in the peaceful little corner of the world where his family lived.

Spike turned to face the threat. A middle-aged man in glasses, flanked by a short red-headed boy and a taller girl with overly processed, dark, wavy tresses. A van was parked on the street. The side door slid open and to Spike’s horror, Angel climbed out, stake in hand. It was then he figured out who the sodding hell the wankers in his front garden were: the Sunnydale crew. The Slayer he’d offed there, Missy, the older bloke was her Watcher and the younger two had been her mates. Oz and Cordelia, if he remembered correctly.

Angel didn’t approach, just stood glowering beside the van.

“Spike,” the Watcher said. “Let the girl go.”

Spike was frantic, though he tried to appear calm for the twins’ sakes, but the bastard had a crossbow aimed at him, which meant it was pointed at Anne as well. One wrong move…the Gem of Amara would keep Spike alive, but the thought of Anne being hurt made anger boil inside him.

He fought to control his fangs. If they appeared the Watcher might become much less wary of collateral damage.

Anne’s arms were wrapped tight around Spike’s neck in a fierce hug.

“Hey, pumpkin, can you get down and go inside like a good girl?” he said quietly.

She shook her head and clung to him like a limpet.

The was a scrambling noise from the porch and his eyes darted to the side to see Dawn standing there. The Sunnydale people were obviously surprised by the presence of the second little girl as well.  

“Dawn—” Spike started, wanting her far away from this lot, but her eyes were darting back and forth between the crossbow and him. She knew what the bow was. There were weapons in the house and for safety the girls had been told since before they could walk about how dangerous they could be, to not touch them, and to never point the bows at anybody.

Dawn scrunched up her face, opened her mouth, and screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

Anne started crying.

Christ, he’d just wanted out of Sunnyhell after Dru’s death and killing the Slayer for paltry revenge. Now he was wishing he’d snapped the necks of every last one of the wankers.

The front screen door slammed as Buffy rushed out. “Excuse me?” she sputtered as she put a hand on Dawn’s shoulder and the little girl finally stopped hollering. “What are you doing in my yard, threatening my family?”

The Watcher sighed, exasperated. “I’m trying to protect your daughters.”

“What?” Buffy looked at Spike, but he didn’t dare speak. Not until Dawn and Anne were safe.

There was the sound of banging doors and hurried footsteps. Apparently, Dawn’s screaming had alerted the entire block that something wasn’t right.

“Rupert? Rupert Giles?” Wes strode through the front gate. “What in heaven’s name are you doing in Seattle?”

Giles seemed shaken to see another Watcher. “Wesley? I could ask the same of you.”

“I live here. Other side of the street and one house down.”

Giles frowned. “I…we…it took us a long time, but we finally were able to track down the killer that murdered my Slayer. You should be thanking me, he was about to make a meal out of this poor woman’s children.”

Buffy huffed and Spike sighed as he tried to disentangle himself again from a now hiccupping Anne. At least the tears had stopped. But she wasn’t letting go and he didn’t think he could rip her off without hurting her, plus the violent action might lead to Giles getting trigger happy.  

“Ah,” Wes said.

Spike glanced towards the street. Everyone was there, even a very pregnant Anya. Though she was hiding behind Dalton and Lorne, looking terrified and clutching the hand of her young son. These were the people who’d smashed her power center, after all. Angel was still by the van, scowling at Xander, who was brandishing his leaf blower like a weapon. The witches were holding hands and whispering, probably trying to figure out a way to use magic to help.

Fred slowly made her way into the yard. “Are there any hungry little girls here?” she asked. Both Dawn and Anne swiveled their heads to look at her.

“I think spaghetti’s a bust,” Buffy said. “How about you two go with Fred and she’ll make you her world-famous peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

“No crust?” Dawn asked.

“No crust,” Fred confirmed. Watching Giles and the crossbow warily, she edged towards Spike and Anne.

“Go with Fred and get your supper, pet,” Spike said. “I can hear your tummy rumbling.”

For a second it looked like the lure of her favorite sandwich was going to work. Anne’s grip loosed and she started to turn towards Fred, but that meant Giles and the crossbow also came into her line of sight.

She wrapped her arms back around Spike’s neck in a near stranglehold and sobbed.

“Honey,” Fred said, her voice soothing. “Come on with me, it’s going to be alright.”

“No!” Anne howled at the top of her lungs. “They’re going to hurt my daddy!”

“Uh,” Oz said. “Y’know. I don’t think we have the whole story here.”

Cordelia flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Duh. Giles, maybe you should put down that bow. I really don’t think Missy would want you aiming it at a little kid.”

“I put this down and that little kid is dead,” Giles snapped.

Spike glared at him, then slowly bent over until Anne’s feet were touching the ground. Gently, he pulled her arms from around his neck. “It’s okay, princess. I love that you want to protect me.” He swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “And I love you, but I really need you to go with Fred right now, okay? I promise I’ll be just fine, and I’ll even read you _The Princess and The Pea_ at bedtime. Does that sound good?”

Anne sniffed. “With the voices?”

“With the voices.”

Anne kissed his cheek and took Fred’s hand, letting Fred lead her over to Dawn. Once both girls were safely inside, Spike gradually straightened, bracing for the impact of the crossbow bolt. No matter how much it hurt, he was going to have to yank the blasted thing out immediately, before one of the tossers, most likely Angel, figured out he had the Gem and managed to get the ring off his finger.

Thankfully, Angel was still being kept at bay by Xander and his leaf blower for the minute, though that wouldn’t last forever.

“Look, Giles, I understand you’re angry.” Wes touched Giles’ shoulder and the man turned his head just a fraction. It was all the opening Buffy needed. She catapulted herself off the porch, kicking the crossbow out of Giles’ hands and onto the ground. Instantly, she had the weapon in her hands, cracking it in two over her knee and throwing away the pieces. Before Giles had time to react, she’d slammed him onto his back on the lawn, knee on his chest and a hand around his throat.

“Hit him again!” Anya was yelling, and Spike chuckled when he saw Angel rubbing at his face from where Xander had belted him with the leaf blower.

Shaking his head, Spike looked down at Giles, who was gasping like a fish from Buffy having knocked the wind out of him.

“I need an explanation right now as to why you’re in my city, in my neighborhood, on my street, threatening my husband and daughter!” Buffy’s voice was full of barely contained rage.

“Husband?” Giles said weakly as his gaze focused on Buffy.  “Who are you?”

“Buffy.” Wes was standing with his arms crossed. “You can probably let him up now, he’s not much of a threat without a weapon.”

Buffy, face dark with anger, let the berk go, spinning to walk off a few feet. Spike slid an arm around her waist and spoke in her ear.

“Real threat is the git by the van. That’s Angel, my grandsire. He has a soul shoved in him, but that doesn’t mean he’s a pussycat. He fancied himself in love with Missy and he didn’t like yours truly much before I…before I killed her.”

“Will he dust like any other vamp?”

“Reckon so.”

With a flick of her wrist, a stake appeared in Buffy’s hand. “Good.”

“I’m sorry about your Slayer,” Wes was saying to Giles. “I really am. I understand why you’re angry, the need for revenge.”

“You lost a potential a while back, didn’t you?” Giles had pulled his glasses off and was cleaning them.

“I did, but I made up for it. Buffy’s my Slayer, Rupert. Has been for several years now.”

“That’s preposterous. The Slayer is in Cleveland. Faith has been doing an amazing job for a great deal longer than most girls manage.”

Wes sighed. “She died, not for very long, but it was long enough for Buffy to be called. Faith still being active has meant we’ve been flying under the radar here, and we’d like to keep it that way.”

“I see,” Giles said. “Though I am rather curious as to how William the Bloody came to be married to your Slayer.”

The last two words sounded like an insult and Spike growled, not willing to listen to anyone be dismissive of his wife.

There was an answering growl from Angel, who’d finally managed to push past Xander. He stopped beside Oz and Cordelia, who were whispering with their heads together. “You can’t trust Spike,” Angel snarled. “He’s using you until he doesn’t need you anymore and then one dark night you will all be dead.”

There was a giggle and Willow put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, sounding muffled. “That was just so dramatic.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Look…Angel. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. I’m really sorry you lost someone important to you, but Missy killed Drusilla, Spike killed Missy, and then he left town.” Angel looked taken aback by Dru’s name coming from a stranger’s lips, but Buffy continued. “And Spike’s not the same guy he was then. I’ve been living with him for over four years now. He saved me when I was pregnant and starving. He delivered the girls himself in this house, the house we’re making a home together in. The only father Dawn and Anne have ever known is him, they love him. I love him.”

Spike wrapped his arms around Buffy from behind, holding her tight. He’d have to tell her later, when they were alone, exactly how much hearing her say all that meant to him. “Love you too, kitten.”

“Spike’s my best friend,” Wes said after a moment. Giles looked like he’d been slapped.

“He’s my friend too,” Xander said. “We even got him cheering for the Seahawks now, whether or not he thinks it’s proper football.” Xander made air quotes when he spoke the last two words and Spike managed to not sigh as Xander continued. “He and Buffy babysit for me and Anya all the time. If it wasn’t for them, Xand Jr. wouldn’t be getting a baby sister.”

“He helps us all the time.” Tara’s voice was soft but strong. “With maintaining the house, and carrying heavy stuff, and he changes the oil on our car.”

Angel’s mouth was hanging open.

“And he helps with spiders,” Willow added. “Only we won’t let him kill them, so he carries them out to the backyard.”

“I keep telling you birds they’re just going to bloody well keep coming back in doing it that way,” Spike grumbled.

Willow shrugged with an apologetic look on her face. Witches and nature. Heaven forbid he didn’t sort the recycling correctly.

“Maybe it doesn’t mean much coming from me,” Dalton said. He was clutching Lorne’s sleeve like he was about to fall over and his ridges were showing. “But Spike is my book club buddy. I’d still be sitting alone in a tiny apartment if it wasn’t for him. And the four of us get together for b-breakfast, every Sunday morning, to do the crossword.”

“They do the crossword,” Lorne said. “I get everyone fed. And I’d like to point out that English muffin there,” he jerked his head at Spike, “hasn’t drunk anything but pig and beef blood for years now. Dalton here as well. They’ve got rewards cards from the butcher that delivers here, so many pints bought and you get a free one. You can see all the punch cards if you’d like.”

The entire Sunnydale crew had turned to stare at Lorne, who just grinned back. They seemed confused by the very obviously not-human demon, his bright pink shirt, and especially the arm he had resting around Dalton’s waist.

A flat-black Porsche, stereo thumping, drove down the street and pulled over to park in front of the van. Shadow—the name had stuck, much to Keith’s delight— got out of the front seat, a set of papers in one hand. He looked much the same as ever, just now his hoodies had designer labels on them. He started towards Spike and Buffy’s house but stopped dead when he realized there was a group of people there already. “Whoa, am I interrupting something?”

“Who are you?” Angel snapped. “And by all means please tell us all how wonderful Spike is.”

Spike smirked. If there was one thing he was never going to grow out of, it was irking the arse. While in Sunnydale, Spike had been preoccupied with Dru and his attempts to heal her, but he’d been well aware of Angel mooning around after Missy. Probably looking to have the same kind of life and acceptance Spike did here in Seattle with Buffy and their friends. If someone took Buffy from him, Spike knew he’d hunt that person down and slaughter them, but Spike knew Angel, knew that the only person Angel had ever really managed to love was himself, and not even that since the soul. Whatever Missy had meant to Angel, in the end Spike doubted that emotion was going to be enough to fuel endless attempts on his life. Especially if Angel would only be reminded of what he didn’t have every time he saw Spike. The sod would just bugger off and go be heroic elsewhere.  

Shadow frowned at Angel. “Um, Spike helped me with my nickname, and he helped my gran move to a better place. Which reminds me.” He held up a bag of cookies. “Gran made snickerdoodles for the girls.” He lowered the cookies and shook the papers in his other hand in Angel’s direction. “But mostly I’m here because I need signatures from Spike and Buffy authorizing the final touches on the expansion to the homeless shelter.”

“Homeless shelter?” Giles dropped his head into his hands.

Lorne, after shaking loose of Anya and patting her on the head, strode over to put a hand on Giles’ shoulder and look Angel in the eye. “I’m sorry you lost someone you cared about. I know it hurts, I can feel it, I’m an empath, but the guy you’re looking to take vengeance on, he doesn’t exist anymore. You’re looking for the vampire that killed Missy without batting an eye, but he’s gone. You don’t want to dust Buffy’s husband, Dawn and Anne’s father, or my friend. It’s time to let this go, there’s no one left to take your anger out on.”

Spike didn’t know what to say. He just hugged Buffy harder. She turned in his embrace and laid her head against his shoulder.

The Sunnydale group had their heads together and Lorne left them to talk. At least none of them seemed to recognize Anya. Xander had put his leaf blower down and was holding his son in his arms now.

Spike tried to figure out if he agreed with Lorne’s words and found them to be scarily true. He wasn’t much of a big bad anymore. That’d been Dru’s dream. He was who he’d wanted to be a very long time ago. Someone, maybe not quite a man, but close, with a wife to love and be loved by, children to dote on, and friends that both respected him and enjoyed his company.

It’d taken him a sodding long time to get here, but he was glad he’d found his way.

Oz spoke up after a minute. “Yeah, we, uh, we’re going to go.”

“Be out of my city by midnight,” Buffy said, turning her head to fix them with a glare.

“Are you sure?” Cordelia asked. “I was kind of hoping to hit the sale at The Bon Marche tomorrow.”

“The Bon’s having a sale?” Buffy asked, then shook herself. “Midnight.” She paused. “Well, maybe midnight tomorrow.”

Cordelia’s eyes lit up. 

“We’re gone.” Giles headed towards the van without looking back. Oz and Cordelia followed him, though the girl cast a look back over her shoulder as she went.

Angel caught Spike’s eye. “One toe out of line…”

Buffy spun towards Angel and tightened her grip on the stake that was still in her hand. “Spike’s toes are mine. If any of them get out of line, I’m the one who smacks him around. Not you.”

Christ, she was adorable when she was brassed off. He was so going to pound her into the mattress of their specially reinforced bed—so far Xander’s fifth try was holding up remarkably well—after the girls were sleeping.

Angel held up his hands, sent one more glare in Spike’s direction, and stalked back to the van.

“Shadow,” Buffy said, her eyes tracking the van as it drove off. “Make sure they actually leave.”

“Already on it.” Shadow held up his Blackberry.

“Thank you.” Buffy took the bag of cookies from him and skimmed over the papers in his hand. “No problems?” she asked.

“None at all,” Shadow answered. “And we’ve been pretty successful with donations of hygiene products and socks.”

“New socks,” Buffy groaned as she signed. “I can remember when those were the best things ever.”

Spike signed off on the plans without really looking. If Buffy was okay with them, that was good enough for him. “I’m going to get my wife inside before we have people calling in public indecency complaints about her moaning over socks,” he said, putting his arm back around Buffy.

Shadow looked heavenward and reclaimed his Montblanc pen before Spike could steal it. Bugger. So far he’d only managed to trick the kid out of two of them. Everyone else had already dispersed homewards, except Wes, who’d gone inside in search of his wife.

“I think I’m going to have a PB&J as well,” Buffy said as she and Spike climbed the steps on the front porch.

“Maybe if you ask nicely Fred would cut the crust off for you too,” he teased.

“I like the crust,” she pouted. “It makes the taste more interesting.”

“And you like things being interesting?”

“I keep you around, don’t I?”

He couldn’t argue that one.

At the top of the steps, two little-girl-shaped rockets collided with him. He had to let Buffy go so he could scoop one up in each arm.

“You okay, Daddy?” Anne asked, looking him over.

“I’m just fine, princess. Though I know two girls who are going to need a bath soon.” Buffy held the door open while he carried the girls back inside. Fred and Wes were in the foyer, ready to take their leave. “Thanks for helping with the girls,” Spike said to Fred.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad that everything turned out okay. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw that…dummy pointing a crossbow at you and Anne.”

Spike shuddered, fear he hadn’t let himself feel earlier coming home to roost.

“There are extra sandwiches with both grape and strawberry jelly on the counter,” Fred said, waving at the girls as she walked outside.

Wes nodded to Spike. “Meant what I said, you’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“I’m going to leave before this gets any more awkward.”

“You best do that.” Spike chuckled as Wes let himself out.

Buffy shut the door and locked it. “I could eat a horse. Or ten horses.”

“Mommy!” Dawn cried, her mouth pulling down in a frown. She loved ponies.

“Not really,” Buffy said. “It’s just an expression.”

“You go eat,” Spike told her. “I’ll get these two pigeons clean and I do believe I promised someone I’d read _The Princess and The Pea_.”

Dawn made a face. “I like the steam shovel one better.”  

“Maybe, just this once, I can read two bedtime stories,” Spike said, setting the girls down. “Now run along and pick out your pajamas and I’ll be right there.”

Dawn and Anne took off, thundering up the stairs.

Spike caught Buffy as she walked past him, heading for the kitchen.

“Got plans for my other dirty girl later,” he breathed in her ear, entirely satisfied with how she shivered in his arms as he kissed her neck.

“Daddy!” Anne hollered. “Dawn’s not letting me wear my Cinderella pajamas!”

Buffy smiled up in amusement at him. “Can you believe you gave up being a feared creature of the night to referee preschooler pajama disputes?”  

He brushed the hair out of her face and trailed a finger across her cheek as he looked her right in the eye.

“Yes.”


	40. Epilogue 2: Thanksgiving

_“Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé.” – George Sand_

****

Being eight was hard most of the time. Dawn wished grownups weren’t always telling you what to do, and school took up so much time. And now Mommy gave her chores. Blech. Only she had none today because it was Thanksgiving. Dawn loved Thanksgiving. Her sister liked Halloween better, but that was just because she got to dress up like a princess with a crown, which she did every single year. Boring. Dawn had been a ninja this year and a cowboy the year before. She still had the stick horse, his name was Spot and she rode him around the yard sometimes, though now she went to real riding lessons with real ponies once a week.

Anne had ballet class instead. Which sounded really lame. You just wore a lot of pink and jumped around. Even Mommy didn’t like ballet class, something about Daddy and the other mom’s eyes.

But today was Thanksgiving, which was awesome. Not only because there was food nobody ate the rest of the year that was yummy, but because everyone came over to the house and was happy. Dawn suspected it had to do with the trippy stuff she’d heard was in the turkey.

“You wanna see if Aunt Willow or Tara will play with us?” Dawn asked her sister, who was annoying but also her best friend.

Anne sighed. “They’re helping with the cleanup.”

“Drat.”

“We could play cars!” Xander Jr. said. He was their cousin, sort of, who was two years younger than them and completely immature. At least his little sister was napping and not bugging them as well.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “We played cars already today.”

“We could play Candyland with Grandma,” Anne suggested.

Dawn just glared at her. Trust Anne to come up with something to do that required sitting down and following rules. “We see Grandma Joyce all the time,” Dawn said. “And we play games with her all the time.” Especially since Grandma had moved to an apartment building only a few blocks away.

Anne shrugged. Xand Jr. was running around in circles and making car noises. Ugh. Boys.

“How about we choose where we want to go this weekend?” Dawn finally asked. Mom and Dad had said that Dawn could pick something to do on Saturday and Anne on Sunday.

Anne brightened up. “I want to go to the zoo, the one with the sharks.”

“Cool!” Dawn liked that zoo a lot too, and Daddy always bought each of them a new stuffed animal at the zoo’s gift shop every time they went. 

“What about you?” Anne asked.

Dawn bit her lip. There was so much to choose from: a ferry ride, the science center, the troll under the bridge in Fremont and lunch at Ivar’s, Pike Place—though Mommy was always jumpy there, or the library, but none of those were what she really wanted. “Gasworks Park?”

“Mom’s going to say it’s too cold.” Anne put her hands on her hips like Mommy would.

“But Dad will tell her we can wear coats, and if you say you want to go too…” Dawn had learned a long time ago that a united twin front pretty much guaranteed Dad would be on their side.

Anne nodded. “I want to have a picnic. We can have turkey sandwiches.”

“Fine with me.” Dawn knew her sister liked the park, with its ancient gas-coal machine stuff and play barn. And turkey sandwiches would be good. “Maybe pie as well?” Could you even eat pie during a picnic?

“Clem makes the best pies,” Anne said, then wrinkled her nose. “We should probably make sure there’s some leftover.”

Hand-in-hand, they rushed through the house, only walking when Uncle Wes, holding his baby daughter, gave them a stern glare. Even Mommy had to do what he said (most of the time).  Shadow, who was super cool, was talking to Uncle Wes and gave them a wink. He was always on their side and his Gran made awesome cookies.  

Once out of Uncle Wes’ sight, Dawn and Anne sped up again, running through the dining room. The table had been cleared, but Uncle Dalton was sitting there with Clem, Rowena, her dad, and Jorge. Dawn gulped, because Jorge was a police officer and might tattle about the running, but the grown-ups were too busy playing cards to notice Dawn and Anne.

The twins left the dining room, only to nearly collide with Uncle Lorne.

“Wait for Xand Jr., you little devil cakes, he’s trying to catch up.” Uncle Lorne wagged a finger at them, though he was also smiling so Dawn knew he wasn’t really mad.

“Yes, sir,” Dawn and Anne chorused, and dutifully waited for their cousin before stampeding into the kitchen.

There were still several untouched pies on the counter, including a pumpkin one, much to Dawn’s relief. There’d be plenty left for Saturday.

There was also Mom and Dad. Kissing. Again.

Weren’t they supposed to be washing dishes? Instead, Dad had pushed Mom against the counter and it looked like he was trying to eat her face. Gross. Dawn had no idea how they got anything done because they liked kissing so much they were always getting sidetracked by it.

Anne let out a very long sigh.

“Wanna go out back and play Slayers and vampires?” Dawn asked.

“Sure, but I get to be the Slayer this time,” Anne said, following her sister towards the back of the house. “Because you’re always the Slayer.”

“We can take turns, and you can be Slayer first.” Dawn waved her hand. “Me and Xand will be the vampires, okay?”

“Okay,” Anne answered, then stopped and hugged Dawn. “You’re the best sister ever.”

Dawn smiled as they hurtled out the door into the back yard. The late afternoon sun was warm on her shoulders and in the distance, she could see a few lights coming on in the skyscrapers of Seattle. The Space Needle was lit up already too. Dawn had been there twice, but Dad took Mom to the Space Needle for dinner on their marriage anniversary every year, which Mom found funny for some reason. Adults were so weird.

The mountain was wearing its sunset colors, rising high above everything.

Dawn loved it all. Her family and her home and, since it was Thanksgiving, she especially loved that she was not even the eensiest bit hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking a chance and reading this story! It took most of a year to write and at some points I really had to work at it, but in the end I'm very happy with how it turned out and I'm in tears at having to say good-bye to this verse's version of Buffy and Spike along with Dawn, Anne, and everyone else!
> 
> I love to hear from my readers! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and "liked" this story along the way, you helped me keep going, and if you're reading this ages after it first posted, I'd still love to know what you thought, whether it's ten minutes or ten years after this was first posted!
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> SunAlso (9/16/17 5:02 pm)


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